Innocence Slaughtered
by InfinityStar
Summary: A child killer terrorizes the city while detectives from two elite units must set aside personal feelings and conflicts to work together and find him. CISVU crossover.
1. A Disturbing Crime Scene

Eames rolled over in her bed and groaned. Why was it the damn phone always rang just when she was sleeping well? She reached over and grabbed it from the bedside table. "Eames."

"Good morning, sunshine."

"No, it's not a good morning, and if we don't have a case, Goren, I swear I'm going to kick your ass."

"Come on, Eames. I know better than to just call you at this hour."

"And what hour is it?"

"Uh, 2:23."

"Figures. All right. I'll pick you up in a half hour."

"Make it forty-five minutes and pick me up down by the deli."

"You've got a deal, partner."

As she climbed out of bed, she mused over how much she appreciated that all night deli down the street from Goren's apartment. And the girl who worked there at night had her eye on him, so they always got fresh coffee.

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He got into the car and handed her a Danish and coffee. "My hero," she mumbled.

"Yeah, right," he smiled. "A Danish and coffee and you turn to mush."

"Well, you're in a good mood." She shifted into drive. "At least one of us wakes up on the right side of the bed."

"That would be the left side on my bed. The right side would run me into the wall. And who said I've been to bed?"

She looked at him. "Hot date?"

"Not hardly. Lewis isn't my type."

"You're not drunk, are you?"

"Do I look stupid?"

She smiled. "No, not stupid. Just in too good a mood for 3 in the morning. Any idea what we're walking into?"

"Nope. Deakins just said he'd meet us at the scene." He pulled a napkin from his pocket and read off the address. "That's a nice neighborhood."

She glanced at the napkin, then at him. "Have you even been home yet?"

"I stopped in to change my clothes. It's never a good idea to show up at a crime scene smelling like a night on the town."

She raised an eyebrow. "Like a what?"

"Lewis spilled a beer on me, and, well, aw, never mind. Just trust me when I say be glad I got changed."

"Maybe I should go out with you and Lewis some time."

He smiled. "I don't know, Eames…"

"Next Friday…Logan and Barek are on call, and I have nothing to do."

"But…"

She smiled. "Ok. It's a date."

"A what?"

"You heard me. You, Lewis and me. A threesome."

He choked on his coffee and she smiled a wicked little smile. Score another one for the little detective with the big attitude.

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Goren was still sponging coffee off his tie as they got out of the SUV and met Deakins. "What happened to you?" the captain asked.

"Just a little coffee mishap," he muttered.

Deakins noticed the grin on Eames' face and decided he didn't want to know. He started toward the house. "I want you both to prepare yourselves. This is not going to be an easy case. Victim's name is Christin Smalley. She's four. Apparently, the perp broke in down in the basement and no one heard him. He waited until the family was sleeping, then made his way upstairs. He bypassed the little boy's room and…well, you'll see."

Eames looked at Goren, who met her eyes. "You want to check out the point of entry?" he asked.

She nodded and mouthed _thanks_. It would be hard enough to review the crime scene pictures. She was a cop and a professional…but children…there was a good reason she never worked special victims'. She headed down to the basement while Deakins and Goren headed up the stairs. "How'd we catch this case?" Goren asked. "Shouldn't it belong to special victims?"

"Oh, they've been called in as well. You'll be working together with them. We got called in by the commissioner. This kid's mother is his niece."

Goren nodded. He was used to high profile cases and they didn't scare him. "Are they here yet?"

"They?"

"Special victims."

"Not yet."

Good, he thought. He hated trying to decipher a scene second-hand, or with half a dozen people climbing all over him. Deakins stopped outside a door that was decorated with Disney's Princesses. Goren frowned, his previous good mood forgotten. "Uh, how did they find out?"

"Mom is pregnant, and she got up to use the bathroom. She thought she heard something, saw the perp running down the hall, and screamed for her husband. The husband chased the perp out of the house and down the street, until he lost him a couple of blocks over. He's an off duty cop, stationed up in the Bronx, but he didn't have time to grab his piece. Mom found her daughter, called 911, then her uncle, and he called us."

Goren nodded, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. Bracing himself, he entered the room. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. He just stood in the doorway, eyes searching the room. He made up his mind, right then and there, that he was going to get this guy…no matter what. Stepping further into the room, he began his examination of the scene.

Eames came back into the entryway from the basement as the detectives from SVU came in the front door. They looked at her and at her badge, before either one of them spoke. "Elliot Stabler, SVU. This is my partner, Olivia Benson."

"Alex Eames, from Major Case. The commissioner called us in."

Stabler nodded, shaking her hand amiably. "Calling out the big guns right away. You have a partner?"

She nodded. "He's upstairs, examining the scene of the murder. Anyone tell you guys what went down?"

Benson shook her head. "All we know is that a child was involved."

"A four year old. Point of entry was the basement. He used a glass cutter to cut out a window pane so he could open the window and get in."

"Alex," Deakins was halfway down the stairs. He looked at the two detectives who had just arrived.

"Captain, these are the two detectives from SVU, Stabler and Benson."

Deakins held out his hand. "Captain Deakins, Major Case." Greetings and niceties aside, he turned back to Eames. "Goren asked if you would talk to the mother, Alex."

She nodded and looked at Benson. "Interested?"

Benson looked at her partner, then back at Eames. "Let's go."

Stabler looked at Deakins. "I'd like to have a look at the scene."

"The kid's bedroom. My detective's already in there. This way."

They found Goren on one knee beside the child's body. With infinite tenderness, he brushed the hair back from her face. He knew they were there; he didn't look up. Deakins knew enough to leave him alone; he was protecting himself by avoiding contact right now. But Stabler had no idea. "What do you have here?"

Goren still didn't look up. "A murder victim."

Stabler looked at Deakins. "You got a wiseass here, captain?"

Goren finally looked up, frowning, his expression guarded. "Uh, excuse me?"

"I know we've got a murder vic. That's why we were called."

"And you are?"

"Stabler, SVU."

"Oh." Goren just nodded and turned back to the body, not yet ready to share his findings with anyone, particularly not an arrogant detective with an attitude. He didn't play those games.

Stabler looked at Deakins, who had rolled his eyes without being noticed. "Goren, cooperate. Share and share alike, got it?"

"Yeah. I got it."

Deakins looked from Goren to Stabler and quietly sighed. This was not going to be fun. Ready or not, he wanted to hear what Goren had to say. "What do you have, Bobby?"

Goren was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He readjusted his position, leaning back on his heels, arms resting on his knees. "Cause of death seems to be blunt force trauma to the head. She also has premortem bruising to her chest and abdomen. The perp kept her alive long enough for bruising to start. There are fibers in her mouth. He gagged her…and, there are…ligature marks…on her wrists and ankles." He looked up at Stabler. "This little girl did not die easily." He got to his feet. "We're gonna get this son of a bitch."

He brushed past Stabler and left the room. Deakins looked at the SVU detective. "He really is very good at what he does, detective. He may not work and play well with others, but he gets the job done. He's my best officer. Highest solve rate in the department." He studied Stabler, the detective's face telling him he'd heard about Goren. That made Deakins uneasy; most of the rumors out there had Bobby painted as an unstable cop, a loose canon ready to blow. He knew that wasn't the case, but he couldn't stop the rumors. "You can't believe everything you hear, Stabler. You have a problem with him, you run it by his partner or you come to me. This is a high profile case and I don't want any fireworks. Do you understand me? I'll talk to Goren, too."

Stabler nodded. "I understand, Captain. No fireworks."

He turned his attention to the crime scene and Deakins went to find Goren.

Deakins wasn't surprised to find his detective hovering behind his partner as she and Benson talked to the child's mother. He motioned for the big detective to follow him. Out in the hallway, he said quietly, "Understand me on this one, Goren. This is their case, too. You find out anything, you let them know. I'll talk to Don Cragen. We are working together on this. It's not a race and not a competition. We're both after the same scrub. Got it?"

"Yeah. I got it."

Eames and Benson came out into the hall. Deakins looked at them. "Anything helpful?"

"Not really," Eames answered. "We need to talk with her husband. She's in shock. They're going to take her to the hospital."

The captain looked at the two women detectives. Over his shoulder, he said, "Go find the father, Goren."

Goren met his partner's eyes, then he walked off to do as Deakins asked. The captain said, "I just talked to both of your partners. This is a high profile case, and I'm not going to have any intersquad struggles here. Goren and Stabler seem to have already decided they don't like each other. That leaves it to the two of you to make sure they behave. I want everything you find shared with each other as well as with Cragen and me. We are going to solve this and we're going to do it together. Understood?"

Eames nodded. "Got it, Captain." She looked at Benson. "How are you at babysitting?"

"Lots of experience."

"Same here."

Deakins smiled. "Keep me informed. Now I have to go and call the commissioner."

Eames looked at Benson. "Well, I'm gonna go find my little boy."

Benson smiled. "And I'll find mine."

Eames found him sitting in the kitchen with the child's father. Goren had a cup of coffee and the dad had a beer. Both men rose to their feet as she approached. She caught her partner's eye before turning to the distraught father. "Hello, Officer Smalley. I'm Detective Eames."

He shook her hand and they sat down. Smalley looked at Goren. "Partners?" Goren nodded. Smalley looked at Eames. "I was just telling your partner that I never got a good look at the guy. He was already on his way down the stairs when I got out of the bedroom. I lost him in an alley three blocks over. He was probably my size…" He shrugged.

"Do you know of anyone who might want to do this to your family? Any enemies?" Eames directed the questioning, as she always did, so her partner was free to observe.

Smalley shrugged. "I'm a cop. What cop doesn't have enemies?"

"Does being related to the commissioner have any bearing on your job?"

"No. I don't even think my captain knows."

"Uh…" Goren interrupted and pointed to the doorway. "Your son…"

A little boy of about three was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. Goren raised his hand. "Finish talking to my partner. I'll take care of him."

He got up and went to the doorway, squatting down in front of the child. "Hi there. I'm Bobby."

He studied the big cop. Goren took out his badge and showed it to him. The boy took it with a smile and said, "I'm Charlie."

"Why don't we go in here and talk, Charlie?"

Charlie looked at his father, then took Goren's hand and went with him into the living room.

Eames turned back to Smalley. "He's very good with kids. Charlie will be fine."

Goren sat on the couch and Charlie crawled into his lap. The big cop glanced at the doorway when Benson and Stabler came into the room and sat down. Charlie looked at them. Goren said, "They are police officers, too, Charlie."

Benson leaned forward. "Hi, Charlie. I'm Olivia, and this is my friend, Elliot."

"Hey, little man."

Charlie smiled, but held on tight to Goren's badge and leaned against his chest. Goren tipped his head toward the little boy. "Hey, Charlie, did you see anyone outside your room tonight?"

He nodded. "There was a man. He went into Chrissie's room."

"What were you doing up so late?"

He looked around the room, then leaned closer. "I had to pee."

Goren laughed softly, setting the boy even more at ease. "Ok. What did you do when you saw him?"

"He scared me. I went back into my bed. I didn't hafta pee no more."

"Do you remember what he looked like?" Charlie nodded. "Was he big, like me, or not so big, like Elliot?"

Charlie pointed at Stabler. "But he had hair on his face. Here." He touched his upper lip.

"That's very good. Was his hair dark or light?"

"Like hers." He pointed toward the doorway.

Goren looked but no one was there. "You mean like Alex? The lady who's talking to your daddy?" Charlie nodded. "Very good, Charlie. Did you see him again?" He shook his head. "Did you hear anything else?"

"I heard Mommy. She was crying. Where is Mommy?"

"Mommy had to go see the doctor. You can see her later. Charlie, did you smell anything?"

Stabler shifted impatiently on the couch and Benson elbowed him. Goren ignored them, his attention fixed on the little boy. "He was stinky. Like when Mommy and Daddy go out."

"Ok, Charlie. Thanks for talking to us. You were a big help. Let's go see if your daddy is done talking to Alex."

The child slid off his lap and gripped his hand. He still held onto the badge in his other hand. Benson and Stabler watched them leave the room. She looked at her partner. "He's good."

"Maybe we should have talked to the boy."

"Why? He did as well as we would have done. What is your problem, Elliot?"

"I just…I don't like him, Liv."

"You don't have to like him. You just have to work with him on this case."

Eames looked up as Goren returned to the kitchen with Charlie, who climbed into his father's lap. Eames stood up. "Thank you, Officer Smalley."

A uniformed officer came to the doorway and spoke softly to Goren, who nodded. He looked at Smalley. "The, uh, the ambulance is ready to go…with your wife."

"And my daughter?"

"If you want to follow the ambulance, my partner and I will stay with her until the M.E. is done."

"Thank you, Detective Goren." He gently took the badge from Charlie and placed it in Goren's hand as he walked past him, carrying his son.

When they were gone, Goren looked at his partner. "He smelled cologne, Eames. So did I…on Chrissie's body. It was a mix of colognes…male and female. My…my dad used to come home smelling like that."

"This is probably a stupid question. Can you identify the colognes?"

"Yeah…Old Spice and Chanel. I, uh, I smelled that a lot."

She laid a hand on his arm and gently squeezed, moving past him and into the living room where Benson and Stabler were talking. They fell silent as the two major case detectives entered the room. Goren looked from one to the other. Stabler glared at him; Benson looked uncomfortable. Goren was very familiar with the uncomfortable silence. He looked at his partner and motioned toward the stairs. "I, uh, I have a…promise to keep."

Eames nodded and watched him head up the stairs. She looked at the other two detectives, annoyed. "That was smooth. He's not stupid, you know. He knows when people are talking about him."

"Sorry," Benson said. "Elliot isn't comfortable working with him."

Eames glared at Stabler. "You'd better unruffle those feathers, Stabler. You're stuck with us until this case is solved."

Trying to change the subject, Benson asked, "Did he say something about keeping a promise?"

Eames nodded. "He promised to stay with Chrissie until the M.E. takes her. Excuse me."

They watched her head up the stairs to join her partner. Stabler still looked uncomfortable. "I know you've heard the same things about him that I have, Liv."

"Why can't you go into this with an open mind, Elliot? You saw him with that little boy. We couldn't have done any better."

"Yeah, well, maybe. Let's go down and check out the point of entry."

Eames walked to the doorway of the little girl's room. CSU was done and the room was empty, except for the little girl and the big cop who sat with her. Eames sat beside him on the bed, fighting down the bile that rose in her throat just thinking about what had happened to this little girl. "I wish I could cover her," he said softly.

"Rodgers will be here anytime."

"This is just wrong, Alex. I…I want to get this guy."

"I know. We will."

He looked at her. "You really think so?"

She looked into his eyes, and she saw the determination behind the pain. "Yes. I really do."

They remained with the child until Rodgers and her team were done processing their part of the scene and they took possession of the body. The two detectives followed the stretcher down the stairs. Stabler and Benson were waiting in the hallway. Goren stepped off to the side, letting his partner deal with the other detectives. Eames was used to his remoteness. She said, "I guess we're done here. Let us know if you get any leads and we'll do the same."

Benson nodded. "I want to apologize to both of you if we did anything to make you uncomfortable."

She watched Goren, who shook his head. He met her eyes as he replied, "No apology necessary. I'm…used to it."

He left the house and headed for the SUV. Benson looked at Eames. "Is he ok?"

"He's fine. Unfortunately, he's right. He is used to it."

She joined her partner at the car and drove off. The sun was coming up and they had a lot of work to do if they were going to catch this child killer.


	2. Another Murder

It was almost midnight, and Eames sat back at her desk, just watching her partner pace the squad room. She had at least gotten some sleep the night before but he was pushing forty-two hours without sleep. She had been trying to convince him to lie down in the crib for an hour or two ever since Deakins left. He kept insisting he was fine, and maybe he was…she never knew anyone who could function on as little sleep as he did.

They had gone over the crime scene reports and the M.E.'s preliminary findings all afternoon. There was a whole lot of nothing. She watched him struggle through his fatigue to solve a puzzle with just a few scattered pieces. The difference between Goren and a lot of other investigators was that he never let a lack of evidence keep him from trying to solve the crime. Her phone rang. "Eames." She listened. "No, we're still at the squad. Yeah. That sounds good. See you in fifteen."

She closed the phone and slipped it back into her pocket. Goren had stopped pacing and was looking at her. "Come on," she said, getting up from her desk and gathering all their case notes and reports. "That was Olivia. They want to compare notes."

He crossed to his desk, stuffed some papers into his binder and followed her to the elevator. She looked up at him. "Try not to start anything with Elliot."

He looked wounded. "I won't."

"And don't walk right into it if he tries, ok?"

"I'll try not to."

They met at a diner midway between the two squads. After ordering dinner, which none of them had taken time for earlier, they began comparing notes. Goren, as usual, sat back and let his partner do the talking while they ate. They didn't have a lot to go on. A couple of partials that yielded no hits, some fibers that the lab was still trying to identify, fluids that were being worked up for DNA. That had upset him the most…the fluids. The ultimate violation of her little body. Eames felt him tense beside her, and she looked at him. "Something wrong?" she asked, gently nudging his side.

He shook his head, but wouldn't look at her. She would see it in his eyes, and he wasn't about to start discussing how he felt in front of Stabler and Benson. She looked at him for another moment, then went back to her discussion with Benson. He knew Stabler was watching him. He could feel his eyes on him. He didn't know what to make of the SVU cop. There was a lot of rage in the man, and he was tense, like a tightly coiled spring. Beyond the rage, though, he could sense there was more. He was good at reading people, and he had a sense that Stabler had a gentle side he didn't bring forth very often on the job. To victims, probably, but not toward other cops. No, that's not the kind of cop Stabler was. He was tough, and he did not let any vulnerability show. He could also tell, very clearly, that Stabler did not like him. He guessed he had his reasons, probably based on the rumors that circulated through the department about him. Well, he wasn't the first cop to judge him without knowing him; he was very used to that. He just shrugged it off. As long as those judgements didn't extend to his partner to earn her a cold shoulder because of him, he really didn't care.

His thoughts were interrupted when his partner's phone rang, followed closely by Benson's. That wasn't a good sign, and he tensed, ready to get up and head for the car. His instincts weren't wrong. "We have another little girl," Eames said, closing her phone and nudging him, even though he was already getting out of the booth. He pulled a twenty from his pocket and dropped it on the table as Stabler did the same. Eames told the other detectives, "You guys can ride with us, if you'd like."

"No, thanks," Stabler said, almost too quickly. "We'll meet you there."

Eames just shrugged and followed her partner from the diner. Benson looked at him as they headed out the opposite door. "It wouldn't have hurt to go with them, Elliot. Accepting a ride from them doesn't obligate you to them in any way."

"Just the same, I'd rather not."

She shook her head as she got into the car. Men…and they said women were stubborn.

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Stabler and Benson pulled up to the house right after Goren and Eames did, which seemed to annoy Stabler. They headed up the walk together, as the front door opened and a uniformed officer came out, his shirt open and his face bloody and tear-streaked. "Hurry up! I don't know what to do with her! She's lost it!"

Eames had her hand on her gun. "Who? What's happened?"

"My wife…she's freaking out! She's in the living room! Come on, come on!"

From inside they could hear screaming, crashing and breaking glass. Three cops pulled out their weapons, but Goren laid a hand on his partner's shoulder. "I've got it, Eames."

He hurried in through the front door, Eames right behind him, ready to back him up. "What's he going to do?" Stabler asked.

Eames glanced at him. "He's going to handle her."

"What?"

"If you won't trust him, then trust me. You can put your piece away. I'll back up my partner."

She hurried into the house and stood beside and slightly behind Goren in the living room, where the bereaved mother continued to scream and throw porcelain figures, picture frames, anything she could get her hands on. When she noticed the two strangers in her living room, she screamed "Killers!" and charged at them, wielding a piece of broken glass.

Eames stepped back, out of the way, as Goren stepped toward the woman without hesitation. He held out his arm as she tried to run past him toward Eames, easily catching her midsection and pulling her back against his torso. She brought her hand down, burying the glass in his forearm. He bit back the pain with a groan and, wrapping his other arm around her, secured her arms to her sides. With the ease of someone who had done this many times, he repositioned her without compromising his hold on her. He addressed his partner, his voice calm. "Eames, make sure there's a bus on the way and that the paramedics have authorization for sedation."

The woman continued to hammer her head back into his chest and flail her legs, bringing her heels slamming into his shins over and over. But he held her firmly, talking softly, calmly to her. Benson and Stabler just watched, fascinated, as the big cop continued to patiently talk, not really saying anything, just talking. The tone and timber of his voice was more important than what he said, and she started to settle down, although she continued to struggle against his gentle but firm hold. Her husband stood off to the side, relieved that she couldn't hurt herself any more.

When she heard the ambulance sirens, she began fighting harder, kicking harder, struggling to get out of his hold. But he had been expecting that, and he braced himself for it. Yet all the while, his calm tone remained. The paramedics came running in with a stretcher. One approached with a first aid box, sizing up the struggling woman. "You got her, detective? I'll give her IM sedation…no way we can start an IV with her thrashing around like that."

"I've got her; just do it."

He opened the box, drew up the medication and waited while his partner grabbed the woman's leg and held it as best he could as she struggled more frantically. He jabbed the needle into her leg and emptied the syringe. They stepped back and waited. Slowly, her struggling subsided, until she was finally limp in the big cop's arms. They brought the stretcher over and he gently laid her on it. One paramedic asked, "You ok?"

"Fine."

"You got blood dripping off your hand, man. Want us to take a look?"

"It's all right. I'll take care of it later."

Eames stepped up to his side, pushing him toward the couch and forcing him to sit down as the paramedics wheeled the stretcher from the house, the husband following them. "Take off your jacket so I can see your arm."

"Eames," he started.

"Now."

He knew better than to argue, particularly when Benson stepped forward to help him off with his jacket. "Elliot," she said. "Go get the first aid kit from the car."

Stabler felt oddly unsettled at the sight of his partner fussing over Goren, but he did as she asked. He met the woman's husband on the lawn as he headed back to the house from the departing ambulance. The uniformed cop held out his hand. "Jack Farmer, from the one-nine" he introduced himself.

Stabler accepted his hand. "Elliot Stabler, Special Victims."

Farmer accompanied him to the vehicle and waited as he pulled out the first aid kit. They headed back toward the house. "I didn't know what to do, except stay out of her way. She just freaked."

"Did she find your daughter?"

"Yeah. I work swings. She saved dinner for me, and then we watched a movie. We were getting ready for bed and she went in to kiss Tiffy, like she does every night. We never heard a sound. Missy just…lost it. I can't say what would have happened if your friend…"

"He's not my friend," Stabler interjected, perhaps a bit too strongly.

"Oh, sorry…"

"He works Major Case." Farmer opened the door and they went back into the house. Stabler handed off the kit to his partner and they stood by, watching as Eames cleaned and bandaged her partner's arm. Goren looked decidedly uncomfortable with the attention, but he let his partner take care of his arm. She gave him no choice in the matter. "It's deep," she said. "And I'll take you on that it needs stitches."

A smile played at the corners of his mouth. "I only take sure bets," he muttered so that only she could hear him as he got up from the couch. He turned to Farmer, retaining his gentle tone. He held out his hand to the disheveled officer, who accepted it. "I'm Detective Goren from Major Case, and my partner is Detective Eames. Detectives Stabler and Benson are from Special Victims. What happened, sergeant?"

"I..." He shook his head, his face contorted with grief. Mentally, he stepped away from the murder of his little girl. "Thank you, for what you did...for taking care of Missy like you did."

The big cop just nodded. "I'm glad we got here when we did. She could have hurt herself, badly."

"Yeah…" He let his eyes wander around the room again, and that was it. He sank down into a chair and covered his face with his hands.

Benson knelt beside the distraught man, talking softly to him, as Stabler told Goren and Eames what Farmer had told him. Eames squatted down in front of him. "We're going to your daughter's room now. Is it upstairs?"

He nodded, unable to say anything. Benson stayed with him while the other three detectives headed up the stairs to the child's room. Goren was pulling on gloves as they got to the bedroom door, which was decorated with teddy bears. Eames and Stabler did the same. Opening the door, they stepped into the room.

Twenty minutes later, they turned the room over to the CSU techs. Eames was sitting on the couch in the living room, as unsettled as she had been the night before at the scene of Christin Smalley's murder. Stabler was staring out the bay window at the lawn that stretched to the street, and Goren was pacing restlessly. Farmer was sitting in the same chair he'd dropped into earlier, and they were waiting for another ambulance as well as the M.E. Benson had convinced the distraught father to go to the hospital when he had settled into shock over the night's events. He had his face still buried in his hands. Benson remained beside him, her hand resting on his back. She turned him over to the paramedics when they arrived, and Warner showed up right after that. Stabler led her up to the scene.

Eames watched Goren pace as Benson sat beside her on the couch. The SVU detective asked, "Same M.O.?"

"To a 'T,'" Eames answered.

Goren turned suddenly to look at them. "Point of entry," he said, annoyed that he hadn't thought about it earlier. He left the room in search of a basement door, finding it quickly. They followed him into the basement. It was just one big, open room and it didn't take long to find what they were looking for. He pointed at a perfectly round piece of glass in the middle of the floor near the furnace. The window above it was propped open. "Make sure CSU gets down here," he said quietly.

Eames and Benson headed back up the stairs, and he wandered around the basement, thinking, trying to imagine what the perp had been thinking as he waited to make his move. Two CSU techs came down the stairs, and he said, "Bag that glass. It needs to be tested against the window glass from the Smalley murder, to see if the same tool was used." He walked slowly up the steps, stepping into the hallway and closing the door. He didn't hear Eames approach, but he knew she was there. "You…you can't see this door from…the kitchen…" He turned. "…Or the living room."

He walked along the wall to the bottom of the stairs leading to the second floor. He waved his hand in the air. "Living room doorway…but still out of sight…if they were watching a movie, they…wouldn't have seen him…but they were in the kitchen when he went upstairs. He…he still took his time…but he finished…more quickly tonight...be-because they were…awake."

"And he left out the front door," Eames concluded, disgusted. "Before they went upstairs?"

"No, just after…they would have been in their room, before Mrs. Farmer went in t-to…kiss her daughter…good night…"

Stabler and Benson joined them at the bottom of the stairs. They watched the big cop look toward the front door, then down the hall toward the basement stairs. "He's…confident…"

"And he's got balls," Stabler put in.

Goren glanced at him. He walked into the living room, crossing the room to the dining area which was just off the kitchen. He rubbed the back of his neck, then looked at Eames. "They never heard him."

"No, they didn't," Stabler said. "Farmer said they never heard a sound."

Goren nodded. "I…I need to ask CSU to check something."

Eames stayed where she was as he strolled back to the stairs and took them, two at a time, to the second floor. Stabler looked at her. "Is he always like this?"

She nodded. "Feeling left out?"

"I thought we were working this case together."

"He'll explain, eventually. It's not easy to get him to slow down once he goes off on one of his tangents. But they always lead someplace that we needed to go. He doesn't work like you do, but he'll figure it out."

"Figure what out?"

"The crime, and the killer. He'll pick up the trail sooner or later. He's very good at what he does, Stabler. I've never known a cop with better instincts."

"So how does he do it, Eames?"

She studied him. "Call it a gift…or a curse…it depends on how you want to look at it. He gets into their heads. He knows how they think."

Stabler looked at Benson. "That's just creepy."

"What is?" came Goren's voice from behind them.

Stabler turned. "You are," he said.

There was no visible reaction from Goren, but Eames saw the shadow enter his eyes. Benson glared at her partner. "Elliot, that was uncalled for."

Eames stepped between her partner and Stabler, who had balled his fists, anticipating a reaction from Goren. But the big cop just turned and walked away. Eames looked at the other two cops. "He won't start anything, Stabler," she said. "He'll never throw the first punch. Words are his preferred weapon, and you really don't want to get into it with him."

She turned and went back into the living room, Stabler and Benson right behind her. Goren was once again pacing the room restlessly. Eames had a feeling his restlessness was motivated, at least in part, by fatigue. They all turned their attention to the doorway when Warner appeared. "We're done now. You can secure the scene. I'll send you my report as soon as I have it done."

Goren stepped toward her. "Uh, can you…send us a preliminary in the morning?"

She looked at the big cop, unaccustomed to his intensity. But she nodded, then turned and left.

The CSU techs filed down the stairs, joined by the two from the basement. Goren went to the doorway. "Phil?"

One of the techs turned toward him. "Hey, Bobby. I sent Freddy out to check out the grounds. No luck."

"Damn. Find anything promising upstairs?"

"Couple of partials, some fluids on the carpet, a few hairs…Not a lot. I'll send you a report first thing in the morning."

"Thanks."

They locked up the house and secured the front door with crime tape. The house looked dark and empty, forboding. They walked in silence toward their cars.

Eames stopped suddenly and looked up at her big partner. "Why'd you send CSU outside?"

He looked at her, confused for a moment. She would know why...no, she _did_ know why...sharing information...she was acting like she didn't know so she wouldn't have to remind him to tell Benson and Stabler... "They didn't hear him...I was hoping he left...some kind of prints out here. I think he was barefoot."

Eames just nodded at him, and he looked amused. They resumed walking toward the cars. "Uh, Bobby?" Benson said. He looked at her with tired eyes. "I wanted to say you did really well with the mother."

He nodded. "Thanks."

"You knew exactly what to do."

"Yes, I did."

"That's not how most cops would have handled it," Stabler commented.

Goren stopped and looked at him. "What? Would you have gone in there with your gun drawn and just shot her?"

Stabler frowned and tensed, but Goren shook his head and walked away. Eames watched him slide into the car.

"I didn't mean it that way," Stabler grumbled.

"It's ok," Eames said. "He's pushing nearly forty-eight hours with no sleep and I guess he's a little testy. He has a soft spot for psychological patients. I'll call you tomorrow if we come across anything." She hurried across the remaining lawn and slid behind the wheel. She looked over at her partner, who was resting his forehead on his hand, eyes closed, slumped in the seat. "Are you ready to go over to the hospital?"

"No. We need to go back to the squad."

"In the morning, Bobby. You need stitches…and sleep."

"Eames…"

"What makes you think this argument will end any differently than any of the others?"

He sighed heavily, too tired to fight with her. He waved a hand in the air. "Whatever, Eames."

She pulled away from the curb. Benson and Stabler watched the black SUV turn at the corner before they got into their car, pulled away from the house and turned the opposite way at the same corner.


	3. Nothing To Go On

"Eames?"

"What?" she answered from the kitchen.

He was lying on the couch, arms folded behind his head, eyes half closed. "Uh, did you notice…the cologne?"

"What cologne? Where?"

"On Tiffany's body."

"No, Bobby. I didn't smell the body. That's your job."

"It was the same as on Chrissy's body."

"And why are you bringing it up now?"

"I just thought about it."

"And you didn't think to mention it at the scene?"

"Uh, no. I didn't."

She came into the room and looked at him. "Just like you weren't going to mention the footprint thing?"

"It wasn't on purpose," he protested. "I…I'm just…used to you."

She looked away for a moment before she looked back at him with a small smile. "I know. But we have to work with Stabler and Benson, and you have to get used to verbalizing your leaps of logic, as much as you hate to take the time to do it."

"Can't you just…"

"No, Bobby. You have to take some of this on yourself. I'm not going to be an interpreter or a mediator." She leaned over the back of the couch. "You and Stabler are going to have to find some way to get along."

"What did I do?"

"Bobby…" She sighed. She was tired and not up to explaining to him that accusing Stabler of wanting to shoot that mother was not exactly the socially acceptable thing to do. "Get some sleep, ok?"

"Eames…"

She shook her head. "Please, don't argue. I don't want to get mad at you. Just go to sleep, ok?"

"Fine," he grumbled. He didn't want to argue with her, either. He turned over onto his side and closed his eyes. He heard her leave the room, not certain if she had gone back to the kitchen or to the bedroom. But before he thought to take a look, he was asleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Don Cragen rubbed his eyes and sighed heavily. He walked to the door of his office and said, "Olivia, Elliot, get in here. Bring Munch and Fin with you."

He didn't have to wait long for the detectives. "What's up, Cap'n?" Fin asked as he leaned against the filing cabinet.

"I have the commissioner, the COD and the chief on my back over this case. What do we have?"

Bitterly, Stabler answered, "We have Major Case, that's what we have."

Cragen frowned. "You are supposed to be working _with_ Major Case."

Benson said, "Elliot just doesn't like Bobby Goren."

Fin shook his head. "Now there's a cop on the edge. At least he was before he got that partner of his."

She frowned. "Do you know him, Fin? Have you ever worked with him?"

"I been hearin' about him for years, Liv. He worked Narcotics before Major Case, you know."

"And none of _us_ have ever been on the edge, right, Fin?" Munch challenged.

Cragen cut in. "You can't believe everything you hear. Jimmy Deakins puts a great deal of faith in Goren, and Deakins knows good cops. But this is not about Goren. This is about two dead little girls."

"We have squat, Captain," Stabler said. "All we know is that it's the same perp."

Benson said, "We have a prelim from M.E. Rodgers, who works with Major Case, on the first girl. We're waiting for one from Warner on the second one. CSU is still working up what they found at both scenes."

"Ok. Keep me up to speed. I'm putting Munch and Fin on this with you. You two back them up. Find this bastard yesterday, guys. Get to it."

They walked out of the captain's office and Stabler looked at his partner, eyes narrowed. "Going to bat for Goren, Liv?"

"Get off your high horse, Elliot. I don't know why you feel threatened by him, but you better get over it. The captain is right. This isn't about him. It's about these two little girls."

"Threatened?"

"Yes, threatened."

Before they could continue the argument, her phone rang. "Benson... Oh, hi, Alex... Cologne? What about it?... Really? Ok, I'll ask Warner about it... Sure... Did you get him to go to the ER?... Uh-huh... Pig-headed partners?" She looked at Stabler. "Why, no, I have no idea what that's like... Actually, I have three of them sitting right here, listening to every word I'm saying... Ok. Yeah... Call me when you guys go in... Ok. Bye."

Stabler said, "What was that about cologne?"

"Alex said Bobby noticed the same cologne on Tiffany that he did on Christin."

"What cologne is that?" Fin asked.

"A mix of Old Spice and Chanel."

"That's an interesting combination," Munch observed.

Stabler was frowning. "Was he not planning to tell us?"

"They just did, Elliot. Stop looking for reasons to start something, ok? You heard Deakins and Cragen. We have to play nice with Alex and Bobby."

Munch laughed and headed for his desk. Stabler frowned at him. "Keep laughing, Munch, and see who gets stuck with the grunt work."

Fin threw a balled up paper at his partner. "You get us stuck with shit work, Munch, and I'll kick your bony ass all over the friggin' city."

Munch grinned at him. "Promises, promises."

--------------------------------------------------------------

Deakins came out of his office as soon as Goren and Eames came into the squad room. "Get in here now," he told them.

They followed the captain into his office and closed the door. "It's about time you got here," Deakins said. "What's going on with the case?"

Eames shook her head. "Not a lot. We have a few fibers they can't identify, some fluids, and some partials. Unless there's something in one of our inboxes…"

"There's not," Deakins said. "I've been looking." He looked at Goren. "You look better than you did last night. How's your arm?"

"My…? How did you…?" He looked at his partner, and he had his answer. "It's fine."

"I got a call from Captain Garrison at the one-nine, about Sergeant Farmer's wife. They admitted her to psych for observation. He told me what you did. Good job."

Goren just shrugged. "I couldn't let her keep going and hurt herself or someone else."

"I also talked with Don Cragen. Have you had any trouble with Stabler?"

"No. Why?"

"Don was under the impression you might have."

Goren shook his head. "No. No problems."

"All right. Keep it that way. Let me know what's going on. I have more brass on my back than a marching band. Have Logan and Barek give you a hand if you need it. They're between cases."

Eames frowned as she got up. "We've got nothing. What are they going to help with?"

As they headed from the office, Goren told her, "We have a little more than nothing."

"Not much."

------------------------------------------------------------

Crime scene and autopsy photos covered the conference table amid the corresponding reports. Stabler rubbed his eyes. "I'm going to see this stuff in my sleep. We haven't missed anything."

Goren didn't look up. "There's no such thing as a perfect crime."

"Ok," Benson stood up, before there was another argument. She felt like she and Alex had been running interference all night. "We have partials at both scenes."

"And they match each other," Eames said, looking through one of the crime scene reports. "But we don't have anything good enough to run through the databases."

"A two point print isn't going to rule out many," Goren mused. "We need something more than what he left."

"Great," replied Stabler. "I'll add that to our wish list of what to ask the perp for next time he strikes. Maybe the next little girl will give us what we need."

Eames rolled her eyes and walked behind her partner, resting a hand on his shoulder. He was going to quit thinking out loud if Stabler kept it up, and she didn't want that to happen. His musings helped her follow his thinking and sometimes her tangents set him on the right path. She looked at the time. Ten o'clock. "Maybe we should call it a night."

She tightened her grip on his shoulder when she sensed an objection coming. He stayed quiet. Benson rolled her head to work out the kinks in her neck. "Maybe if we take tomorrow to go over this stuff with our own people, fresh eyes will catch something we missed."

"Good idea," Eames agreed, cutting off another objection from her partner. She knew as well as he did that there was nothing he missed, but it was late and she really did not want to referee another debate.

Stabler and Benson gathered their papers together and said good night. Eames sat down across from Goren and looked at him, waiting for him to acknowledge her. He knew she was looking at him, and he finally raised his eyes to meet hers. "You're really ready to call it a night?" he asked.

"Yes. I am. And so are you."

He knew arguing was pointless. "Ok, fine," he grumbled.

He gathered the papers spread across the table. She grabbed his hand. "Don't pout. We'll get back to it bright and early, ok?"

"Bright and early? I thought you didn't do bright and early."

She smiled at his teasing tone. "For you, I'll do almost anything," she grinned.

He watched her grab a stack of files and leave the room. One of these days he was going to call her on that. He was really curious about what "almost" entailed. He gathered together the rest of the files and went out to drop them on his desk so they could head out for the night.


	4. An Old Friend

Goren rolled over in his bed, and listened. Shit…his phone…he'd left it…damn it! He jumped out of bed and ran into the living room. "Goren."

"Why are you out of breath? No, wait…forget I asked."

"It's not what you think, Eames," he said with a smile. "I left my phone in the living room."

"And that's why I had to call three times? You do not sleep that soundly, Goren."

"No, really…" He sighed. "I'm not awake enough for this." He glanced at the clock. "Four twenty-two. Is this what you mean by bright and early?"

"Not quite. I just got a call from Deakins."

"Aw, no…"

"Yeah. Stabler and Benson will meet us at the scene."

He closed his eyes. "Great. You, uh, want to pick me up outside the deli?"

"Sure. Tell Stephanie I said hi."

He smiled at her teasing. "Bye, Eames."

He snapped the phone closed and went back to the bedroom to get dressed.

--------------------------------------------------------------

He handed Eames her coffee and Danish as he climbed in to the car. "Any idea what we've got?"

"No. Deakins didn't give me anything but the address. I'm not like you, Bobby. I don't wake up with an insatiable need to know every detail. I'm lucky I remember to put my pants on this early in the morning."

He raised his eyebrows and looked at her, but he was smart enough to stay quiet. Antagonizing his partner was never a smart way to start the day, especially when it started so early.

They pulled up to the scene; the CSU team was already there. Goren got out of the car, looking around. "No," he groaned. "No…I, uh, I know this place." She watched him as he walked around the car, hand on his head. "It's another cop's kid, Eames. I, uh…Barry Solomon…he…he was m-my partner, uh, my last partner, in...Narcotics."

_Great_, she thought. It was bad enough that this bastard was selecting cop's kids. Now it was personal.

--------------------------------------------------

The door opened as they came up the walk and a tall, thin man came out onto the porch. He was about four inches shorter than Goren and not as broad. His face was drawn and pale. "Bobby? Bobby Goren?"

Goren accepted his outstretched hand and stepped into the man's embrace. "Hey, Barry. I'm sorry, man. This is my partner, Alex Eames. Eames, this is Barry Solomon."

Solomon shook her hand. "I've heard a lot about you. Come on in."

He led them into the house, to the living room. Goren was anxious to get to the child's room, but he decided it was best to wait for Benson and Stabler. So he paced around the living room while Eames began the questions. "What happened, Detective Solomon?"

"I came home about midnight, ate dinner…the usual."

"Did you check on your daughter before you went to bed?"

"Yeah. I checked on all the kids, just like I do every night."

"Where's your wife?"

Solomon shook his head. "Gone. Took off with some damn lawyer two years ago. Left me _and_ the kids."

"What woke you up?" Goren asked from across the room. He knew what would happen if Barry went off on what his wife had done to him, and this wasn't the time or the place.

"The dog did. I heard him barking, and he ain't a barker, so I figured someone broke in. He didn't break in, man. He fuckin' broke _out_."

Eames asked, "How old is your daughter?"

"F-four," he answered, his voice breaking.

They heard voices at the front door and Eames got up to meet the SVU detectives. Stabler looked at her. "Did you guys _fly_ here?"

She just shook her head. "Little girl, four years old, just like Christin and Tiffany. And a cop's daughter."

"You been to her room yet?"

"Not yet. Uh, Bobby knows the dad. An old partner."

Stabler shook his head. "That's no small group."

Benson elbowed him. "Please, Elliot."

They met Goren at the living room doorway. "Uh, someone should stay here…with him."

Stabler shrugged. "He's your friend."

"Nice try, Stabler," Eames said as she laid a hand on Goren's arm. "Go on. I'll stay here with him."

He met her eyes, all the thanks she needed. Stabler and Benson followed him up the stairs. When they got to the upper level, he pointed at the closed doors. "Master bedroom…here…bathroom…and four other bedrooms."

"How many kids?" Benson asked.

"Five. Uh, Lydia…was the youngest, the only girl. Her room is here…closest to her dad's."

He had already gloved and he opened the door.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Solomon was leaning forward in his chair, a glass of gin in his hand. "How could somebody do this to a little girl?"

"I don't think we'll ever figure that out. Where's your dog, detective?"

"I put him in the basement when I called in the mur…." He started shaking again and took a drink.

"Your daughter was the youngest?"

"Yes. Her name is Lydia. Matt is the oldest. He's 16. Then the twins, Harry and Dennis. They're 12. Lance is 8."

"Where are the boys?"

"I had Matt take them to my parents' place out on Long Island."

"Do you know how he got in?"

He shook his head. "No."

"We'll need to look in the basement."

He set down his drink. "Sure. Come on."

She followed him down the hall to the basement door. He opened it, and a large German Shepherd came up the stairs. "Easy, King," he said. The dog sniffed Eames pants' leg and followed them down the stairs. She walked around the basement, stopping in the doorway to a small room where the boiler and hot water heater were. "Over here…"

There was a round piece of glass cut from the pane of the room's sole window lying on the floor in front of the boiler. "Let's get CSU down here."

"Oh, my God," he muttered, staring at the glass. "The bastard came in down here."

She nodded. "Probably before you came home. He waited until you went to bed before…" She stopped. "Sorry."

His face was grim. He looked at her, eyes dark with grief and anger. "You know this bastard."

"I wish we did. We've been on his trail for the last few days."

"Son of a bitch. And Goren…"

"He's working on it."

He started up the steps, stopping halfway up and turning. "How long you been his partner?"

"Five years."

"Damn." He called the dog and continued up the steps. Eames found a stray CSU tech and told him the point of entry was again in the basement. They started back into the living room, watching people going up and down the stairs. Without warning, King barked once and ran up the stairs. "King!" Solomon called.

Goren was on his way down the stairs when the dog bounded up to him. He stopped and leaned down. "Hey, King."

Solomon looked at Eames. "I swear this guy always came over just to see the dog."

Goren came the rest of the way down the stairs. "Well, I wasn't coming to see you."

Solomon quickly became serious when he saw the haunted look on Goren's face. "What did you see, Bobby?"

Stabler and Benson came around from behind him and stood near Eames, but Goren addressed his old partner. "You…" He was shaking his head. "You don't want to know. Dr. Rodgers, our M.E...she...she's up there now." He tilted his head to look into his friend's face. "She'll be gentle."

Solomon slowly shook his head and walked from the doorway into the living room. He sat down on the couch, the big shepherd walking to him and resting his head in his master's lap. Goren watched him. Solomon was swallowing his grief as best he could, trying to act like just another responding officer, trying to distance himself, forget that it was his little girl upstairs, lying in a pool of her own blood.

Eames took her partner's arm and led him into the hallway, Stabler and Benson following. Stabler looked back into the living room, at the man talking to his dog as if his daughter was not dead. His nature was to suspect everyone, especially men, and the fact that this guy was a friend of Goren's made him less sympathetic than usual. "He's not acting much like a bereaved father," he commented.

Goren crossed his arms and glared at him. "Oh? And what's a bereaved father supposed to act like, Stabler? You work Special Victims. You know there's no pat answer to how a person grieves. Come on. You've got kids, don't you? He's living a parent's worst nightmare. No one knows how they'll react if that ever happens, and what happened to his little girl is unthinkable. Right now he's in denial, which is the first stage of grief. I know Barry. It's gonna hit him and he's gonna explode, but not now, not tonight. Tonight he's gonna be a cop. Tomorrow he'll be her father."

Eames felt for him. He knew this little girl and her family. And she knew how hard this had to be for him. Benson sensed the same, and she wondered if her partner was just pushing buttons, looking for the chink in Goren's armor. "Elliot, enough," she said softly to him.

It was time to switch gears, so Eames asked what she had drawn them out in the hall to ask them. "What did you find upstairs?"

Goren shook his head, angry eyes still fixed on Stabler. "Same as the last two."

"Fibers in her mouth, ligature marks, a killing blow to the head," Benson described.

"Just like Goren said about the first two, this little girl did not die easy," Stabler added.

"What about the cologne? Was that here, too?"

Stabler nodded toward Goren, who had stepped away from the group and was walking toward the far end of the hallway. "You'd have to ask him," he said. "I didn't smell anything but they don't pay me enough to go around sniffing dead bodies."

"Eames?"

She looked at him. He was standing by the basement door, and she nodded in answer to his unspoken question. "Yes. Point of entry was down there. CSU is already on it."

He nodded and walked toward the kitchen, then turned and headed back toward the basement. Eames watched him. He wasn't pacing with his usual energy, but he was pacing. And his mind was far away. She spoke his name, and he came crashing back. "Uh…" He raised a finger. "King…"

"The dog?"

He nodded. "I…come on."

As always, she followed him, wondering where that brain of his was taking him now. "Barry," he said as he came into the room, followed by the other three cops. "You said King woke you up, barking."

"That's right."

"Where was he?"

"In the twins' room."

"And when you let him out, what did he do?"

"He went nuts outside Lydia's door, and then he ran downstairs. He was running from the basement door to the front door and back."

"Did you let him outside?"

"No. I didn't know what the hell was going on, until I went in to make sure Lyd was ok."

Benson and Stabler, like every other cop Goren had ever worked with, except Eames, were left in his dust. They had no idea what he was getting to. Stabler muttered, "Does he think the dog did it?"

Goren didn't hear him. He was focused on Solomon. "Then you put him in the basement?"

"Right, when I called 911. I didn't want him in the way."

"Uh, that game I taught King…"

"What about it?"

"Do the boys still play it with him?"

"Yeah. They love it."

Goren looked at Eames, Benson and Stabler. "I…I taught King to play cops and robbers."

Eames shook her head with a small smile. "Only you, Bobby."

"What? He liked it."

"_You_ liked it," Solomon interjected.

"Yeah, well…" He resumed his pacing, his mind racing a mile a minute. Eames saw the energy that had returned to his movements.

Solomon looked at Eames. "Does that still mean what it used to?"

Eames nodded and looked at Stabler and Benson. "He's got an idea."

Benson asked, "Is he going to share it?"

She nodded. "As soon as he figures it out."

Goren continued his restless pacing while they watched. Eames could sense his energy. He was excited about something. Benson leaned toward her. "Any idea what he's thinking?"

"Maybe." She was so used to following his convoluted logic and making the leaps that connected the dots, she had a good idea what he was thinking. But she would wait for him to fill in the blanks.

Goren stopped pacing and looked at his old partner. "Can I borrow King while you…uh, take care of things? I'll take good care of him."

Solomon looked from Goren to Eames and then to Benson and Stabler. "Ok. Sure. Then I won't have to board him at the kennel."

"Great. Thanks, Barry."

"What's going through that head of yours?" Solomon asked.

"Just trying to find justice for Lydia and two other little girls."

"Well, if anyone can do it…" He trailed off again and looked around the living room to find his gin. He got up and picked it up from the windowsill. "This is a nice, safe neighborhood. Things like this just don't happen here."

"That's what the last two families thought, too."

He looked at Goren. Same old Bobby, all the tact of a child who didn't know any better. "Get this son of a bitch, Bobby. If you never find another perp in your life, get this one."

Goren nodded. "We will."

Solomon's eyes followed him as he left the room. He looked at Eames. "We? What'd you do to him? He was never a team player."

"You think he's a team player?" Stabler asked.

Solomon looked at him. "You don't know him, detective, do you?"

Benson shook her head. "And he doesn't want to."

"I worked Narcotics with him the last two years he was there. Never knew a cop like him, and never will again." He looked at Stabler. "You know another undercover cop with a 100 per cent solve and conviction rate? I don't."

He finished his gin and sighed heavily, looking at Eames. "This happens to other people, Eames. What the hell are we supposed to do when it happens to us?"

The question hung in the air because no one had an answer to it.

----------------------------------------------

Goren stood in the front yard, watching the ambulance pull away. His fists were clenched and every muscle in his body was taut. Beside him, King whimpered and nosed his hand. He patted the dog's head. "I know."

He turned and went back inside, where Eames, Benson and Stabler were finishing up with the CSU techs. Eames looked at him with worried eyes. "Where's Barry?" he asked.

"In the kitchen."

She watched him walk down the hallway. Benson leaned toward her. "Is he ok?"

"I'm not sure."

Goren sat down in the chair opposite his old partner at the kitchen table. Solomon looked up at him. "She's on her way to the mor…M.E.'s office?"

"Yeah. Are you going out to your folks'?" He nodded. "You want a lift?"

"All the way out to Long Island?"

"It's not a problem."

"And if your partner objects?"

"She won't."

Solomon finally nodded. "All right. Thanks, Bobby."

He nodded and got up. Solomon watched him head out of the room. He was a lot calmer than he'd been when they were partners. He could see that same energy Bobby had always had…it was just…under control. Bobby was under control. He looked down at his hands, which were shaking. He closed his eyes and buried his face in those shaking hands.


	5. Bobby's Idea

Goren sat quietly in the passenger seat as Eames drove them back from Long Island. He was looking out the window, but his mind was far away. Eames left him to his thoughts for most of the trip. Finally, on the outskirts of Manhattan, she decided she'd had enough of the quiet. "Bobby?"

She had to call his name three more times and nudge him before he finally answered her. "Sorry, Eames. I was thinking."

"I could see that. I was wondering if you noticed the same cologne on Lydia as the other two girls."

"Yes."

"I take it there was nothing that jumped out at you from this scene."

"No. I, uh, I hope you don't feel excluded, Eames. I…understand how hard…things like this are. You know…children…"

"It's ok, Bobby. You don't exclude me. I don't have to be there to be included. Remember, you bounce everything in that mind of yours off me."

He gave her a small smile, then went off on one of his tangents, voicing something that had been troubling him. "I…I'm not sure I really like working with Special Victims."

"Why?" As if she had to ask…

"I don't mind Benson. She reminds me a little of you. Tough as nails, but sensitive. Stabler, though…I'm not sure what his deal is. He seems intent on pushing my buttons, and he's damn good at it."

"I noticed. You're doing a good job of not reacting to him."

"Until he hits the right button."

"I'll watch out for that, ok?"

He studied her. "I…Thanks, Eames."

He looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. He almost told her he didn't know what he'd do without her. And he didn't know; he really did need her. He hoped she knew that…but something stopped him from telling her.

Eames shifted in her seat, noticing his sudden discomfort. That could only mean something had popped into his head that made him uneasy. There was no way of telling what that something could be. And he wasn't about to tell her; if he was, he would have already started. Hearing a noise in the back seat, she looked over her shoulder. She had forgotten King was back there. "What are we going to do with that dog?"

"What? Oh, he'll just stay with us."

"We're taking him in to the squad?"

"Sure. He's used to squad rooms. He used to spend a lot of time with us in the Narcotics squad room."

"Why did you offer to keep him?"

"Remember that game I mentioned?"

"Cops and robbers."

"Right. I taught him to track a scent and find a person. Usually it was one of the kids. He's very good at it. He got the scent of this guy, Eames. By the time it occurred to me what he could do, it was too late to try. There were too many scents, and this guy was long gone. But if he strikes again…"

She nodded. "And he will…we can use King…"

"Right. To track him and find him."

"Oh, Carver's gonna _love_ this. He's going to have to put a dog on the stand."

----------------------------------------------------

Deakins walked past Goren's desk and stopped, looking down at the furry tail that stuck out from under it. Then he looked at Goren, who was studying the crime scene report that had just been delivered. "Uh, Bobby?"

Goren looked up. Deakins looked down at the tail, and Goren followed his gaze. "Oh. That's King."

The tail wagged at the sound of his name. "Are you borrowing him from K-9?"

"No. From Barry Solomon."

"Who?"

"The father of this last victim. He and I were partners in Narcotics."

"And you're borrowing his dog? To bring in to work with you? I'm not following."

Eames was smiling. She enjoyed watching him mess with Deakins, but she stepped in before the captain started getting irritated. "He's a tracker, captain. Since we're no closer to getting this guy than we were when we started, we hope to use the dog to track him if this perp strikes again."

"When," Goren corrected. "Not 'if.' He will strike again. He's having too much fun watching us chase our tails. This is a game to him, and we provide his comic relief. He feels invincible and he's going to do it again. He thinks we can't catch him." He glanced down at the dog under his desk. "He's wrong."

Deakins sighed. As always, he gave Goren the leeway he silently asked for. "Just make sure he stays out of the way…and don't forget to walk him."

Goren smiled and went back to his report. After a few minutes, he glanced up at his partner. "Uh, Stabler and Benson…"

"What about them?"

"Do they know about the dog? Why I wanted to borrow him?"

"Not yet."

"Can you…?"

"No. It's your turn."

There was that stubborn look. No way he was getting out of it. With a heavy sigh, he picked up his phone and dialed, not missing the smile on his partner's face as she turned back to what she was doing.

"Special Victims, Stabler."

Great. Didn't it just figure? "This is Goren."

"You find something?"

"No. I, uh, wanted to let you know about the dog."

"What about him?"

"I...I mean he's a tracker. I taught him to…follow a person's scent and find him. That was the game…the one we were talking about."

"So you taught the dog to play a game. What does that have to do with the case?"

"When this guy strikes again, we're going to get King to track him."

Silence. Then, "How about we catch this scrub _before_ he strikes again?"

Goren frowned. "Great idea, Stabler. Why didn't I think of that? Why don't you and your partner run right out and pick him up?"

"We sure will, as soon as you tell us where to find him, genius."

"You know, Stabler…" A pen bounced off his chest. He looked up at the woman who had thrown it at him. She had a warning look on her face. "Never mind."

He hung up the phone, his face dark. Eames shook her head. "Sarcasm just doesn't suit you, Bobby. It works much better coming from me."

He raised his eyebrows at her, the dark look fading from his eyes. "Ok, fine, Eames. _You_ can call them from now on."

"Give me back my pen."

"I don't think so." He put it in his shirt pocket as he opened his portfolio and pulled out the crime scene photos from Solomon's house.

"Come on, Goren. That's my favorite pen."

"You shouldn't have thrown it at me."

"Fine. Keep it. I'll get it back later."

He looked up from the photos. "Is that a promise, Eames?"

"You wish." She pulled another pen from the mug between their desks and went back to work.


	6. Brainstorming

The table in the conference room was scattered with crimes scene photos and reports. The photos from all three scenes were arranged for comparison and Goren was leaning over them. His jacket was draped over the back of a chair and his tie was off. Eames had a stack of paperwork in front of her, but she was mostly just keeping him company and listening to him think aloud, tossing out suggestions whenever they occurred to her, which wasn't often. They were almost to the bottom of the well with this case.

She was halfway through another form when her pen started to skip. "Son of a bitch," she growled, throwing the pen at the garbage pail across the room.

She got to her feet and glared at her partner, who had looked up at her. He tried his best to look innocent. "What?"

"That's the third damn pen that's started skipping on me."

"We must have grabbed a bad box."

"Goren," she said, through clenched teeth as she continued to advance on him. "Give me my pen."

He straightened up and started to back away from her. "Hey, you're the one who threw it at me."

"I want my damn pen."

He slipped the pen from his pocket and held it out, grinning and backing around the table. "It's all yours if you can get it."

"Damn it, hold still and let me have my pen."

"You shouldn't have thrown it at me."

"Next time I'll throw the stapler at you."

She backed him against the wall by the filing cabinet, and he held the pen up out of her reach. She put her hands on her hips and said, "I am not jumping after my pen. Quit being juvenile and give me the damn thing." He laughed softly, and she softened a little. It was good to hear him laugh. "Come on, Bobby, give me my pen so I can finish this paperwork."

She started poking him in the ribs, and he couldn't move away, so he finally relented and gave her the pen. "Ok, Eames, you win," he said with a smile and a laugh.

"I always do," she laughed, touching his cheek before she turned away and went back to the table. He leaned his head back against the wall for a minute before he went back to his photos.

The door opened and Deakins looked in. "Everything ok in here?"

"Fine," Eames answered without looking at him. She held the pen up. "I was just getting my pen back."

The captain looked at Goren, who hadn't looked up from the table, then back at Eames. He pulled the door closed as he left, shaking his head but hiding a smile.

-----------------------------------------------------------

_This isn't good_, Eames thought. They were tired and hungry, and her partner had been staring at those photos all day. She was just realizing that his attention was being drawn more and more to the pictures of the Solomon murder. She glanced at the time. Six twenty. Enough…

"Let's call it a day, Bobby. I'm exhausted." He looked at her, quiet for a minute. She knew he was thinking about arguing; he wasn't ready to stop. But he seemed to think twice about it and all he said was, "If you want."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "What? No argument?"

"I'm too tired to argue, Eames. And it never gets me anywhere but annoyed, anyway."

She looked at him. That wasn't entirely true. Sometimes he argued with her just for the sake of arguing, which annoyed _her_. "Are you ok?"

"Sure. I'm fine. Let's go."

She watched him gather the pictures and the files together. They went to their desks where he shrugged into his jacket and slipped his tie into his pocket. He muttered something to King, who got up from under the desk and followed him as he started for the elevators. He stopped and looked at her. "Coming?"

"Since I'm your ride, where are you going to go without me?" He didn't answer, and she was concerned. "Don't lie to me, Bobby. Tell me what's wrong."

Now he _was_ getting annoyed. She should know by now that if he wanted to talk about it, he would. "What's wrong is I'm going to leave anyway and walk home."

"Good plan, Bobby. Maybe you'll get there by dawn."

He raised his hands and shrugged. She watched him walk away and get on the elevator with the dog. Stubborn, stubborn idiot. Well, if he wanted to walk all the way home…

By the time she got off the elevator at the parking garage, she was talking to herself, ranting about stupid, stubborn men and idiot partners…and speak of the devil, there he was, leaning against the car, waiting for her.

"I ought to make you walk for that." He shrugged, and she shook her head. "Get in the damn car, Goren."

----------------------------------------------------

Goren stepped up to the bar, easing his tall frame onto a vacant stool. The bartender came over to him. "What's your poison tonight, Bobby?"

"Scotch, neat. Make it a double."

"You got it."

He rested his head on his hand while he waited. He was having a hard time getting the image of Lydia Solomon out of his head. He could see her in his mind's eye, toddling across the yard after her big brothers. He could see her playing with King, chasing the twins when they played 'Monster,' smiling at her father. The bartender set the glass on the bar in front of him. He waved thanks and looked into the drink. He'd known that child all her life. He downed the drink and signaled for another…then another…

----------------------------------------------

Eames fell asleep on her couch, watching a movie. She was trying hard not to feel uneasy being alone in her apartment and it annoyed her that she could not pin down the source of her uneasiness. She toyed with the idea of calling someone…Barek, or Benson, maybe…but the person she did finally call did not answer his phone, probably for the same reason she'd had to call him three times this morning. She couldn't help feeling a small pang of jealousy. She decided not to try calling him again.

The doorbell woke her. She looked at the clock as she got up and walked to the door. It was approaching midnight. Pulling the door open, she was surprised to see Goren there, with King. "Bobby? What's wrong?"

He tilted his head and looked at her. "I woke you. Sorry."

"Come on in. Are you ok?"

"Why wouldn't I be ok?"

She watched him walk into the apartment. He was a little unsteady. "Did you drive over?"

"Hell, no. King needed to go for a walk."

"So you walked over here from your apartment?"

"It's not _that_ far."

"It's getting late, though."

"I…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have bothered you…"

"No, no, I wasn't complaining. Something's bothering you. What is it?"

He rubbed his forehead. "I…I can't sleep, Eames. I close my eyes and…and I see Lydia…I _knew_ her, Alex. I knew her…"

She saw his turmoil and she understood. She gently pushed him toward the couch. "Sit down and I'll make some coffee. We can talk about it, ok?"

"You got a beer?"

"No. Sit down."

He dropped onto the couch when she went into the kitchen. A few minutes later, she came out of the kitchen. "The coffee will be done in…"

She stopped and looked at him, shaking her head slowly. He was asleep. She sat lightly on the coffee table and gently smoothed his curls off his sweaty forehead. "Look at you," she whispered. "What's this case doing to you?"

Getting a blanket from the closet, she covered him and leaned over to kiss him. "Good night, Bobby," she said softly. When she went into the bedroom, she left the door open, just in case he needed her.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

It was mid-morning when Deakins emerged from his office, a powerful headache pounding behind his eyes. "Goren, Eames, Logan and Barek. Get your asses in here now."

He sat down at his desk and rubbed his forehead, waiting for the four detectives to assemble. Looking up, he saw Eames and Barek sitting in the chairs, Logan hovering behind them and Goren sitting on the table off to the side, where he often sat. "I have been on the phone since seven this morning. This is a nightmare, people. There are three dead girls, all police officers' daughters, and we have no clue who's killing them."

"We _know_ that," Goren grumbled, frustrated that they weren't making any progress.

Deakins ignored him. "Logan and Barek, I want you to give them a hand. I want this case solved, do you understand me, people?"

No one said a word, which was wise. The captain waved a hand in dismissal. "Get busy. Goren, stay."

Goren stayed where he was while the other three detectives left. Eames looked back at him before she closed the door. Deakins looked at him. "Where's the dog?"

"At my desk."

"Look, Bobby, I talked with Eames this morning. You had a really hard time yesterday. Is there anything I can do?"

Goren rubbed the back of his neck. "No. I'm ok."

The captain studied him. "You have any problems, let your partner know. Take care of yourself, Bobby, and find this son of a bitch…before my damn head explodes."

Goren nodded and left the office. Eames looked at him as he dropped down into his chair. "Everything ok?"

"He wants me to let you know if I have any problems."

She smiled. "So do I."

He leaned toward her. "I'm ok, Eames."

"You weren't last night."

"And I came to you, didn't I?"

She nodded and said, "Just make sure you always do, Goren."

------------------------------------------------

Eames looked up from the file in front of her, at her partner. He had leaned back in his chair and was staring at the ceiling. She knew he was thinking, making connections no one else could, but it was just leading him in circles. The odd cologne had him confused. It meant something, but he seemed to get stuck on the memories of his own childhood, when his father came home smelling that way. She knew how obsessed he could get.

"Bobby?"

He lifted his head to look at her. "What?"

"We should go over what we have with Barek and Logan."

"What we have, Eames, is a whole lot of nothing much."

"I know. I…" She was interrupted by the phone. He leaned back again, half-listening to her, half lost once again in his own thoughts.

"Hey." She tossed a balled up paper at him, hitting him on the chin. He raised his eyebrows and looked at her. "We're taking Logan and Barek over to SVU. We're going to fill them in and brainstorm."

Goren groaned. "Great."

----------------------------------------------------

They arrived at the SVU squad room after lunch. As a gesture of trust, Goren had left King with Deakins. Two tables were set up in an empty interrogation room, one of them had the crime scene photos spread over it, the other held the reports. The eight detectives spread themselves about the room. Goren sat mostly removed from the others, until Logan pulled up a chair and sat near him. Eames and Benson took it upon themselves to go over all the evidence and explain what they were thinking. Goren and Stabler kept silent.

When they were done, Eames shrugged. "And that's where we are."

Fin was frowning. "What's up with the cologne? That's really weird."

Stabler looked at Goren. "You want to field that one, Goren?"

"I don't know what the significance is yet."

"I don't think there is any significance," Stabler challenged.

"The same scent is left on all three bodies, each a day apart from one another, and you think it's not significant? On just one body, I would agree. But not on all three. It wasn't sprayed around the room and it doesn't seem to have been left to mislead us. It…" He trailed off, frowning. Eames knew that look. He was getting past his mental barricade.

The other detectives watched him skeptically. Logan and Barek now knew him well enough to realize he was probably making an obscure connection and they gave him his space, sitting silently and waiting. Benson looked at Eames, who motioned for her to be patient. Stabler shook his head and shifted impatiently in his chair. Fin and Munch looked at each other. "What the hell's his problem?" Fin asked.

Logan matched Fin's frown with one of his own. "Just chill out," he said. "He'll let us in on it when he's ready."

Goren had gotten up and gone to the table with the photos on it. He leaned over them and studied them some more. Eames looked worried. He had turned into himself and was lost in his own mind. After a few minutes, he looked up, thoughtful. "Eames," he said quietly. "What day is today?"

"Friday."

"Monday morning…" He raised his eyes to meet hers. "He's going to strike again Monday morning."

"So this guy takes weekends off?" Munch asked.

"In a manner of speaking. We didn't get a body this morning, and we won't tomorrow or Sunday."

Stabler got up from his chair, throwing his hands up in the air. "This is ridiculous. We need to find this scrub and we're not going to do it standing here listening to you make guesses about what he's going to do and when he'll do it!"

Logan slowly got to his feet. "I'll take one of Goren's hunches over anyone else's educated guesses any day of the week."

Fin stepped over to stand by Stabler and face down Logan. "You want to start something?"

"No, he doesn't," Barek stood and stepped away from her chair. "No one is going to start anything."

Goren had turned to lean back against the table. He crossed his arms and looked from Stabler and Fin to Logan and Barek. "This isn't getting us anywhere."

"You started it," Stabler accused.

"What did I do?"

Logan shook his head. "Same thing you always do. You started thinking."

Goren looked at him, but there was no malice in Logan's face or tone, just a teasing grin. "Try it sometime," he retorted, his own mouth twitching at its corners. Logan just laughed and went back to his chair.

Munch reached toward his partner and gave him a shove. "Give him a chance, Fin, unless you have any stunning insights to offer. Anything he has to say can't hurt."

Fin gave him an annoyed glare and went back to his chair. Stabler also sat back down, his face a dark frown. Goren glanced at Munch, then turned back to the photos on the table behind him. Eames smiled gratefully at Munch and Logan for defusing a situation that could have gotten ugly, making a mental note to thank Logan for sticking up for her partner. Hoping to deflect attention from Goren to give him time to think and make the connections he was heading toward, she said, "How about we take a coffee break?"

"Great idea," Benson agreed, grabbing her partner's arm and leading him from the room.

The other detectives left the room, too, in search of coffee or a breath of fresh air. Eames remained, watching Goren focusing on the pictures again. "What is it, Bobby?"

"I, uh, I'm sorry about that."

"You didn't do anything. What happened? Something jumpstarted that brain of yours."

He sighed and started pacing. "I…I've been stuck on this cologne thing. I haven't been able to get past the memories of my…my dad. He went…out during the week, to…to be with…whoever. Weekends he stayed home, mostly..." He hesitated, not sure why he was telling her this. "This guy…he doesn't realize he's left the scent behind. When he…" he closed his eyes and rubbed his hands on his face, but nothing was going to shake the images in his mind. He trusted his partner to know what he was referring to. "He transferred the scent from his clothes to theirs. Something happened…during his trysts…to trigger this rage…to make him seek out little girls. But he didn't strike this morning. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday…I'll wager something happened Monday….something that sent him on this…rampage."

As always, she listened, absorbing his theory and processing it with the rest of the information they had on the case. Softly, she said, "But your dad never went this far."

He closed his eyes. He didn't say anymore. After a minute, he went back to his chair and sat down, leaning forward and looking at his hands. She walked over to him and squatted in front of him, resting her hands on his. "How about some coffee?"

He met her eyes. "Not quite strong enough," he said very softly. "But I guess it'll do."

"We'll talk later, ok?" He nodded. She let her fingers lightly caress his scruffy cheek. "I'll be right back."

She left the room and he buried his face in his hands.

Logan was the first one back. He sat in his chair and looked at Goren. "You don't look so hot. You ok?"

"I guess."

"You are not very popular around here."

Goren looked at him. "I'm not very popular anyplace in the department, Logan."

"You scare people, Goren. And cops don't like being scared, especially by one of their own. Why the hell do you think they talk about you? If they can explain you, you're not so scary."

"Do I scare you?"

Logan smiled. "Not any more."

Goren laughed. Logan lightly punched his shoulder as the door opened and Stabler came in with Benson. He studied the two Major Case detectives warily as he walked to his chair. There seemed to be a genuine camaraderie between the two men, and Stabler wondered at that. Of course, Logan was a loose cannon himself. Maybe that was their common bond.

Eames came into the room next with Barek. They walked over to their squadmates and Eames handed Goren a cup of coffee. He smiled at her, and Stabler saw a great deal of affection in that smile. He also noticed how her hand lingered on his just a little bit longer than necessary when she handed him the coffee. Eames, by all accounts, was a good solid cop, from a long background of decorated officers. He'd never heard a bad word said about her. But no one understood how she remained partners with Goren.

He watched his own partner walk over to the small group and start talking. He felt his gut clench when Goren looked up at her and smiled. Olivia had become very fond of Goren, and that bothered him. She wanted him to give the senior detective a chance, and he agreed to try. He couldn't explain his dislike…perhaps he was unsettled by the rumors of the man's brilliance, knowing that with that genius came a degree of instability. And yet…he saw no instability in Goren. He watched as he seemed to joke easily with Logan, Barek, Benson and Eames. And he noticed how the big detective's eyes frequently sought out Eames.

Munch and Fin came into the room and sat near him. "Is Liv bonding with the Major Case crew?" Fin asked.

"I can think of worse people to bond with," Munch commented.

"Can we get back to work now?" Stabler asked, annoyed. "We have three homicides to solve."


	7. Finishing Up

Everyone settled back in their seats and Stabler looked at Goren. "Ok, Goren, tell us why this perp is going to take the weekend off."

"I don't know why yet. But we won't get another call until after midnight Sunday."

"And if you're wrong?"

He shrugged. "Then we get woken up tomorrow morning, or Sunday morning, but I don't think we will."

Eames looked from her partner to Stabler. Bobby might always think he's right, but he was never arrogant about it. Insistent maybe, but never arrogant. And when he was wrong, though it wasn't often, he would get frustrated and rethink his profile, adjusting and compensating to accommodate the new information. Profiling was not an exact science, but he was better at it than most.

"Forgive me if I don't believe you."

Goren raised his hands in surrender. "Either you want my opinion or you don't. If you really don't, then don't ask for it."

Fin was studying the crime scene reports. He looked up at Benson and Eames, then shifted his gaze to Stabler before letting it finally come to rest on Goren. "I don't see a whole lot of variation among the crime scenes."

"No variation at all, really," Goren commented. "Not with what he left or his methodology. The crime scenes are almost interchangeable."

"But the DNA's not back yet," Stabler commented. "So we can't be sure if it's the same perp or not."

"Look at the evidence, Stabler. No copycat is that good…not when the details are not released to the media. You _know_ that. Are you arguing with me because you think I'm wrong, or because you don't want me to be right?"

Stabler's eyes narrowed. "What makes you think it's either?"

Eames stepped away from the table she was leaning against. She stood by her partner and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Enough, okay? It doesn't matter. We have what we have. Now—has the word gone out to the precincts for any officers with little girls to be on their guard?"

"It should have," Benson answered.

Goren raised his eyebrows. "Should have?" He felt Eames' hand tighten on his shoulder and he pressed his lips together in a tight line. "How do we find out for sure?"

Munch got to his feet. "I'll ask the captain."

Eames leaned down and spoke softly into her partner's ear. Goren nodded and seemed to relax. Munch returned after a few moments. "Captain says yes. Hopefully the information will get disseminated quickly. Geez…you can cut the tension in here with a knife."

"Does anyone have anything else to add?" Benson asked, pushing the meeting toward a close.

"What about the dog?" Stabler asked.

Goren frowned. "What about him?"

"You still planning to use him?"

"Yes."

"What dog?" Munch asked before his partner could.

Stabler and Benson looked at Goren, who explained, "The dog belongs to my last partner from narcotics. He's a great tracker, and we're going to see if he can track this asshole down."

"You're sure he'll strike again, aren't you, Bobby?" Benson asked.

He met her eyes steadily. "He will."

"And if he doesn't?" Stabler challenged.

"Then we have three little girls who are likely to never see justice because we have jack shit to go on here," Goren snapped, frustration and irritation beginning to turn to anger.

"I think we've gone as far as we can go today," Eames said. "Let's go, guys."

She didn't have to say that twice. Logan and Barek were halfway to the door before Goren even stood up. He looked at his partner, silent communication passing from her eyes to his. He left the room without another word. Before following him, Eames rounded on Stabler and Fin. "I have no idea what your problem is, but you'd better check it at the door next time we get together. I really don't care what you think of us because what really matters is those little girls and catching their killer. If you hinder this investigation one iota, there's going to be hell to pay." She leaned closer. "And that goes double if you don't leave my partner alone."

She left the room, slamming the door behind her. Munch laughed. "What a fireball. I wouldn't call her on that threat if I were you."

Fin's eyes narrowed at his partner. "How come you're so fond of Goren?"

"It's not a matter of liking him or not liking him. I've known cops like him before. He's unconventional but he's smart. Nothing he said today was unreasonable. He knows what he's talking about, and I'd listen to him if I were you. It might just get this case solved if you all work together instead of trying so hard to disprove Goren. That's going to come back to bite you in the ass."


	8. On the Trail

He sat up suddenly, sweating and breathing hard. This wasn't working. He'd gotten maybe an hour of sleep all weekend. He grabbed his phone and dialed, waiting impatiently for her to answer. When she did, he quietly asked, "Are you busy?"

"No. Is something wrong?"

"Can I…I mean do you mind…" He let out his breath in a frustrated rush. "Can I come over, Eames?"

She hesitated, caught off guard, not just by his question, but by the urgency in his voice. "Of course, you can. I'll leave the door open for you."

"Thanks." He snapped the phone closed and looked at the clock. Nine twenty-two. He got dressed, grabbed his portfolio and left the apartment with the dog.

------------------------------------------------------------

He knocked lightly then opened the apartment door, letting the dog in first. Eames came out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. She patted King on the head as he came up to her wagging his tail. "God, Bobby…what have you been doing all weekend?"

"You mean besides not sleeping?"

She looked sympathetic. "Sit down," she said, sitting lightly beside him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"What is there to say? I keep going over the crime scene reports, wondering if there is something I've missed. And when I try to sleep, all I can see is…them…and when I think about Lydia…well, let's just say a nightmare would be a step up from where I am…" He trailed off, rubbing his face.

"Have you slept at all?"

"No, not really."

She reached toward him and gently smoothed the hair at his temple. He sighed and closed his eyes; her hand was cool and comforting. "Does it help to remember her before this?" she asked.

"No, it doesn't help, because it always goes back to seeing her there, on the floor...and remembering...what he did to her." She could feel his tension, his anger, his feelings of impotence at not being able to find her killer. He leaned his head back and took an uneven breath. "And then I see her dad's face. Barry was, er, is a great dad. She...aw, hell...what am I going to do?"

She pressed her forehead against the side of his head and spoke softly into his ear. "You're going to get this bastard so you can sleep again. Bobby, I'm so sorry about Lydia. I really let you down on that one."

He opened his eyes, looking at her with a frown. "Let me down? How?"

"I should have known better. I should never have let you process that scene. Stabler was right. You should have been the one to stay with Barry."

He ran over that in his mind, but shook his head. "No. I had no idea it would hit me this hard. We didn't do anything wrong. _You_ didn't do anything wrong."

"Maybe someday we'll both believe that. It's hard to distance yourself when it hits so close."

"How close does it hit you?"

"They're children, and those are the hardest crimes to deal with. And I really hate seeing you like this."

He hated that he was the cause of any grief for her. "I...I should have stayed...home."

"No. I'm glad you came over. I...I want to help you." She slid into the corner of the couch. "Lay down, Bobby."

"Eames..."

"Come on. I won't bite." She reached toward him and grabbed the sleeve of his t-shirt. "Lay down."

She gently pulled his sleeve and he relented, his head coming to rest against her thigh. She smoothed his hair back off his forehead and rubbed small circles into his temples. He shifted his hips into a more comfortable position. "I...wish I could turn my mind off...sometimes."

"I know. I wish you could, too."

His frown was beginning to ease as she firmly caressed the sides of his face. "It's...hard..." he said quietly.

Her fingers pressed firm circles into his shoulders, the sides of his neck, along his collarbone. "What's hard?"

His face was more relaxed. "Just...being me...sometimes..." His eyelids lowered a little. "Logan says...it gives him a headache, just thinking about it."

She smiled. "I understand that. You give me a headache, too, sometimes."

He shifted his eyes to look up at her. "I do?"

"Just sometimes." Her fingers worked his temples again, then gently slid over his eyes, closing them. He tried to force them open, with marginal success. She added, "I need a headache sometimes. It's not a bad thing."

"And being my partner?" he mumbled.

"That's always a good thing, Bobby."

He couldn't force his eyes back open. Everything was catching up with him. For a long time, she continued to stroke his forehead and finger his hair while she watched him sleep.

-------------------------------------------------------------

She heard the phone ring. _Shit_. She turned over, grabbed it and flipped it open. "Eames."

Nothing…and the phone continued to ring. What the…It was Bobby's phone. _Great_. She got up and hurried out into the living room, where he was still sleeping soundly on the couch. She followed the ring and…God, was this really happening? "Damn it, Bobby…"

She stuck her hand in his pocket and pulled out the phone, flipping it open. "Eames."

There was a moment of silence, then Deakins' confused voice. "Why are you answering Goren's phone?"

"Never mind that, Captain. What's going on?"

"We have another victim."

Another victim…Monday morning, just like Goren had predicted. She grabbed a pen from the counter and flipped over an envelope. "Give me the address." She wrote it down. "Is it…another cop's daughter?"

"Yes."

"Don't let CSU or anyone else in that house."

"Is Goren going to bring the dog?"

"Yes."

"Does he know what the hell he's doing, Alex?"

"Doesn't he always? Honestly, Captain, it can't hurt anything letting the dog try."

Deakins sighed. "Let me know."

She closed the phone and stepped over to her sleeping partner. "Bobby…wake up." He groaned. "Come on, Bobby. Wake up."

He opened his eyes and looked at her, confused. "Eames?"

"Come on, get up. We have another victim."

"Another…?" He sat up slowly and shook his head. "What time is it?"

"Almost four. We're losing time."

He nodded and got to his feet, stumbling slightly toward her. She grabbed his arm. "Can you do this?"

"Yeah. I'm ok." He tried to shake the sleep from his mind and ignore the dull throbbing behind his eyes. "Come on, King. We're going to play cops and robbers."

--------------------------------------------------

There was little in the way of traffic on the streets at this hour, particularly in the quiet neighborhood they pulled into. In the back seat, King sat in the middle of the seat, trembling with excitement. Goren reached over and rubbed his neck. You would have thought he was a K-9 the way he was acting. He wondered if Barry still brought him in to work with him. He kind of missed those days. They'd gone undercover a couple of times with the dog. Those had been fun jobs. Of course the undercover work he did now was fun, too…just a different kind of fun.

He let the dog out of the car and headed for the house, with Eames right behind them. Half a dozen CSU techs were scattered about the front lawn, sitting on their cases. "It's about damn time, Goren. Deakins told us to wait here for you. Can we go in now?"

"Not yet. I'll just be a minute. Where are the parents?"

"Kitchen. Hurry up, man."

He went into the house, finding his way easily to the kitchen. The man and woman who were sitting at the kitchen table were staring into space, stunned, numb. He knew those looks. "Uh, I'm Detective Goren. I…I'm sorry they left you in here alone."

The father was a solid man, crew cut, cop's bearing. "Sergeant Perez," he said, holding out his hand. "You Special Vicitms'?"

"No. Major Case. SVU is on the way."

He nodded. "Come on."

He led Goren down a long hall to the other end of the house. He turned and looked up into the detective's eyes, his own filled with unfathomable grief. It was a haunting look, another image for his nightmares. "She's in there. Her name is Maria and she's four. You take good care of her, Goren, and you find the son of a bitch who did this."

Goren nodded. "I plan to."

Perez returned to his wife as Goren pulled on his gloves. "Come on, King. It's time for cops and robbers."

-----------------------------------------------------

Stabler and Benson hurried up the walk to where Eames was waiting with the impatient CSU techs. Stabler looked around. "Where is he?"

"Inside."

"So why are we all out here?"

"So we don't contaminate the scene with too many scents."

"The dog?"

She nodded. "It's time to play cops and robbers."

The front door opened and a very determined dog shot across the porch and down the steps, nose to the ground. Goren followed him, stopping long enough to glance at Stabler, unable to help wishing he were Logan. "Let's go."

"What?"

"Come on."

"I am not…"

"Yes, you are."

He grabbed Stabler's arm and propelled him across the lawn. The SVU cop yanked his arm from Goren's grasp and fought down the urge to lay him out right there. If he sensed that he was half a second from getting his ass kicked, Goren gave no indication. Stabler glanced back toward the house. The CSU techs were already inside, and so were their partners. Reluctantly, he followed Goren and the dog.

The dog ran full tilt across a baseball diamond in a nearby park, silent and deadly in pursuit of his prey. Behind him ran two powerful and very pissed off cops, also silent and deadly. The dog charged across a small stream, hesitated, and began running up and down the bank, looking for the scent. Winded, the two cops slid to a halt, watching him. Stabler glared at Goren, but he was paying no attention to him, concentrating on the dog. King caught the scent and was off with a bark. Goren charged across the stream after him. Annoyed, Stabler followed. Goren was going to pay for this, he thought to himself. He was going to knock him _off_ the fucking edge.

King charged across a large empty parking lot and came to a halt at the door of an abandoned building. A sign in the window read _Condemned_ in large letters. Goren pressed himself against the wall on one side of the door, Stabler against the other, both with guns drawn. They looked at each other. Goren called the dog away from the door and nodded at Stabler, who nodded back. He swung around, kicked the door open and they entered the condemned building.


	9. Not Much of A Plan

The building was dark. _Shit_. Stabler slid off to the side, so he wasn't silhouetted against the streetlights that poured in through the open door. He had no idea where Goren was and that wasn't good. That's how accidental shootings happened. He didn't like Goren, but he didn't want to shoot him either. "Goren?" he whispered.

There was no answer. Great. He had half a mind to go back out the damn door and leave him here to whatever. But he wasn't going to fail to backup a fellow cop. That was unforgivable. He heard a sound behind him and spun around, finger resting on the trigger. "Shhh, it's me."

"Shit, Goren. You damn near got shot."

"Sorry. Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"Upstairs."

"Why upstairs?"

"The light's better."

Stabler stared at the shadow moving away from him. The light was better? Was he joking? Reluctantly, he followed, wanting even more to go back to the house and process another difficult scene rather than follow this unstable cop into whatever waited for them upstairs…where the damn light was better.

-----------------------------------------------------

Eames was sitting on the steps of the porch when Benson found her. They had finished with their part of processing the scene. Warner was doing her job and the CSU techs were doing theirs. An ambulance had come and gone with the distraught parents of the little girl, who had finally dissolved into tears and shock when the medical examiner had arrived and disappeared into their daughter's room. The scene had their perp's mark all over it. Eames even pulled one of her partner's stunts and found the scent of cologne that clung to her little body.

Benson sat down beside her. Eames looked at her. "How do you do it, Liv?"

"What?"

"Handle cases like that, all the time."

"The children, they're the hardest. The way I see it, somebody's got to do it, and as long as I can, I will. It never gets easier, but it's worth it to bring them justice. It's even harder for Elliot, because he can't help but see his kids in every one of those faces."

"I know. I see my nephew in those little faces. I'm glad we don't get cases like this often."

"What do you think your partner sees?"

"I don't want to know. Bobby's mind is a very complicated place, and I couldn't even hazard a guess. But I know it disturbs him very deeply."

Benson looked out across the lawn in the direction their partners had gone. Eames put into words a nebulous concern that had suddenly become strikingly real. "Olivia, he will back Bobby up, won't he?"

Benson thought for a moment, trying to imagine Stabler walking off and leaving a fellow officer with no backup save a big German Shepherd. She couldn't. "Yes, Alex. He'll back him up," she answered with certainty. He was hot-headed and sometimes judgmental, but Elliot Stabler was a damn good cop.

------------------------------------------------

The second floor was indeed more well-lit than the rooms below. It was one big open room, bordered on all sides by windows, many of which were broken. Not only did the street lights shine through the windows, the moon did as well. Goren grabbed Stabler's shirt and yanked him down as he started to move past him up onto the floor. Fed up, Stabler pulled back his fist to swing, but Goren grabbed his arm. "He's up here," he whispered.

"How do you know?"

"I heard him."

Stabler raised an eyebrow at him, trying not to dwell on the fact that if Goren wasn't as annoyingly observant as he was, if he had not yanked him down just now, he'd be lying on the floor at the top of the stairs with a bullet in him. They both would. "Over there...that pillar...let's go..." He shoved Stabler ahead of him and they scrambled toward a wide pillar ten feet from the opening in the floor that they had come up through. Bullets pinged and ricocheted around them, not missing them by much. They made it safely to the pillar, but just barely. "Did you see where he is?"

"Over there." He pointed to the far side of the room, where an assortment of crates filled the corner.

Stabler glanced around the pillar, pulling back quickly when he saw the flash from the rifle barrel. The bullet ricocheted near his ear. He rested his head against the pillar. Great, just great. He could not foresee a single scenario that had both of them getting out of this uninjured. Most of them had one or both of them dead. "This was real planning. Now what do we do?"

"What we came here to do. To paraphrase Mike Logan, we get him."

"Sounds simple enough. What if he gets us first?"

"We don't let that happen. There's two of us. I'll draw his fire and you slip around the crates and arrest him."

How could he take such a scenario as the one they found themselves in and make it sound so damn simple? "Why are you doing this? Why would you take that risk without seeming to give it a second thought?"

"Because we have to get this bastard before any more little girls die. I know what you're thinking, and Eames thinks the same thing. It drives her nuts that I seem to think I'm invincible. I know I'm not. But I will not let her take those risks if I can help it, so call it a habit and be glad for it. Besides, you've got kids. All I have is Eames."

Stabler studied him closely. That was not an answer he would have predicted. "One more thing, before we get our asses killed. What the hell did you mean by the light is better up here?"

"It is, isn't it?"

"Tell me that's not why you brought us up here."

Goren laughed softly. "No. I...I'm used to Eames. She would have...gotten it. I heard him moving around up here after we busted in. I should have told you. Sorry."

"If I'd gotten shot..."

"I didn't let that happen. I never leave my partner wearing a big bull's-eye, whether I like him or not."

Stabler looked at him for a minute, ashamed that the thought of leaving had even crossed his mind and wondering, to his own dismay, if it was only the threat of facing Eames that made him stay. No, he was a better cop than that, and what ultimately mattered was that he was here. He sighed. "We really need another plan. This one's gonna get you shot."

"And that matters to you?"

Stabler sought him out in the moonlight. "It matters to your partner...and mine. And, yeah, it matters to me. I don't want to see you get shot."

Goren took a deep breath, and a small smile played across his face. "Don't tell me you're afraid of Eames."

"Afraid of her? No...well, maybe a little..." He also smiled a little. "She can be scary, can't she?"

"You have no idea. Look, we need to bring this guy in, and he has a pretty secure position over there. The only way to get around behind him is by getting over to the crates. I have no plans to get shot."

"Who ever does? Why not send the dog after him?"

Goren looked around. "I'm not sure where he is. And I promised I'd take care of him. I'd rather get shot than tell Barry I got his dog shot." He poked his head around the pillar again, barely avoiding another bullet as it ricocheted near his face. This was not good. He was afraid there might not be a way to avoid getting shot. Eames was going to kill him. "All right. I'll head that way toward that pillar over there. Give me a three count and then you take off. He should be focused on me. Ready?"

Stabler nodded tightly, shaking his head in amazement at a man who would take a bullet for a dog. He watched as Goren pulled out his gun and, firing toward the crates,darted out into the room, making for the next pillar, which was too far away. He counted to three and dashed for the crates. The rifle cracked again.


	10. Rage

Stabler pressed his back against the crates, breathing hard. The rifle was silent now; he'd counted five shots. He looked across the room, but saw no sign of Goren. Silently, he slid along the crates to the far edge, following his gun around the corner. One more turn and he'd see the suspect. He closed his eyes and gathered himself. Taking a deep breath, he slipped around the corner. "Police! Drop the weapon!"

Everything happened quickly but in slow motion at the same time. The suspect spun around, bringing his rifle to bear on Stabler. Both the rifle and the handgun fired at the same time. Fire burned in his shoulder as he spun instinctively away from the rifle's bullet. He could feel the blood running down his left arm, but he kept his gun trained on the suspect, who was now on the ground. Carefully advancing, gun at the ready, he kicked the rifle away before he rolled the guy over and felt for a pulse. Thready, but it was there. He pulled out his phone and dialed, calling for a bus, hoping his directions were accurate or the ambulance would be wandering the neighborhood for the rest of the night. He pulled off his shirt and looked at his shoulder, where the bullet had left a deep furrow, but it wasn't serious.

From out of nowhere, King appeared, limping, blood running down his leg. "Hey, boy, what happened to you?"

King whimpered and looked back the way he had come. Stabler knelt beside him and gave his shoulder a quick look...bullet wound. He must have caught a ricochet. "You'll be ok," he muttered. The dog whimpered again. Pulling his shirt back on, he stepped out from behind the crates. "Goren?" He trotted across the room, toward the area he'd last seen the big cop heading. "Hey, Goren?"

He looked around, but didn't see him. How the hell did he lose a six-foot-four, 210 pound cop in an empty room? He rounded the pillar and found Goren's Glock on the floor. Picking it up, he tucked it into his waistband. King trotted past him, into the shadows, and whimpered again. Stabler followed him, catching sight of a body on the ground in the shadows near the far wall. _Oh, shit_. Hurrying, he closed the remaining distance and dropped to his knees beside Goren. He felt for a pulse, holding his breath. If anything happened to this guy, he had no doubt Eames would rip him apart. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found a pulse, strong and steady. King laid down in front of the unconscious cop, licking his face, and Goren groaned, rolling onto his back. Stabler saw the blood on the ground and looked for the injury that left it. The bullet had hit the other detective's right arm, buried itself deep against the bone. He looked at Goren's face, half-hidden in the shadows, and saw dark eyes watching him. He nodded at his bloody arm. "You took a hit."

Goren nodded back at him. "So did you." With a groan, he got to his feet, Stabler holding a steadying hand on his uninjured arm. "What about him?" He nodded his head toward the crates.

"He's down, but still alive. There's a bus on the way."

Goren nodded, reaching down to pet King's broad head. Stabler said, "He took a bullet in his shoulder."

"I know. That bullet would have taken me out."

Stabler just looked at him, not sure what to say. He stood up and looked around the room. "I'll go down and see if the ambulance is here yet."

He pulled the Glock from his waist and handed it back to Goren before he headed down the stairs. Goren walked over to where the suspect was, still unconscious. King whimpered at him and nuzzled his hand. He absently stroked the dog's head as he stared down at the man on the ground in front of him. He was a small man, skinny, with a large nose, high forehead and no chin. He heard voices in the building below. He recognized Stabler's voice, then Benson's and Eames'. He tipped his head to the left, looking more intently at the suspect. He squatted in front of him, leaning a little closer, and he caught the scent of that mixture of colognes...Old Spice and Chanel...he remembered his father coming in, very late, very drunk, smelling that way...the arguments...the hitting... He stood up, running his hand over his hair, not liking how he was feeling right now. Another image came into his mind, then another as he felt himself slide toward a familiar chasm..._no!_…four little bodies, bleeding and violated…Christin, Tiffany, Lydia, Maria… He felt the rage burning in his head and his chest, making it hard to breathe. His gut clenched around a molten lump and he felt his control slipping from his grasp. He pointed his gun at the suspect's head, his finger against the trigger. "Bobby?" Her voice barely registered past the roar of blood in his ears. "Bobby--no--"

He heard the panic and pleading in her voice. He felt her hand come to rest on his, and he let her take the gun from him. The pounding rush began to calm and the red haze that clouded his vision faded. He backed away, into the crates behind him, and she came with him. He struggled to calm his breathing, but it wasn't easy. He tried to fight down the rest of his rage, but he couldn't. He could still feel her hand on his, squeezing firmly. And he felt himself step back, away from that black chasm, back to...her...

Although he could hear her voice, his brain did not register any of her words. He just concentrated on the sound of her voice. She was talking, not to converse, not expecting an answer, but to calm him, to bring him back from the edge. "Come on, Bobby..." she said quietly, pressing her hands into his chest. He closed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate on the grounding force of her touch, and he felt stable again.

He finally looked at her. She was right there, right up against him, and he felt safe again; his feet were back on firm ground. She could feel the tremor in his body, but his eyes were once again calm. "I...I need to get out of here."

She nodded. "Go wait with Elliot and Olivia. I'll stay here until they come to get him."

"Eames..."

"Go."

He studied her for a moment, uncertain. "We, uh, we need to get King to a vet."

"And you to a doctor."

"No, I..."

"Yes. No argument. I'll take you if you don't want to go by ambulance, but you are going to a doctor."

"Vet first."

"All right, Bobby. Vet first. Now go downstairs. Take King with you." She squeezed his arm. "We'll talk later."

He met her eyes, and, laying a shaky hand against her cheek, he nodded. "I...Eames..."

"I know. It's ok."

She laid her hand over his, and he saw in her eyes that it really was okay. He felt a little better. "Come on, King," he said tightly.

Benson and Stabler were waiting by the door for the ambulance as he came down the stairs with the dog and walked over to them. He leaned against the wall and rested his head back, closing his eyes. Adrenaline and rage now gone, he was not feeling well. His arm and his head were throbbing; a dull ache filled his torso. He was breathing slowly and deeply, trying to settle the rest of his body and stop the trembling. He still didn't feel right. "Are you all right, Bobby?" Benson asked, concerned.

He just nodded. He was calming slowly. He didn't want to think about what had just happened, what _could_ have happened if it hadn't been for his partner. It frightened him. He'd never come so close to losing it.

Stabler noticed his empty holster. "Where's your piece?"

"Eames has it."

"Why?"

He opened his eyes slowly and looked at Stabler. "Because she had to take it."

Stabler's eyes narrowed. "You would have put a bullet in his head."

It wasn't a question. "I..I don't know. All I could see was those four little girls. Something... snapped, and the next thing I knew, Eames was taking my gun." His voice was low, the only way he could keep it from trembling.

Stabler nodded. "You know, it's ok, Goren. Feeling that way. Wanting to do it. I know what that's like; I feel the same way. The difference lies in keeping it inside, not acting on those desires. As long as you can keep yourself from stepping over that line, you're ok. But it's hard to be objective when you can see those little bodies in your mind every time you close your eyes."

"How do you sleep at night?"

"Sometimes, I don't. But we keep going because someone has to find justice for these kids. And we have to do it the right way, or no one gets justice."

Goren nodded. That he understood. He tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes again.

King walked over to Stabler and nosed his hand. Stabler squatted beside him and ruffled his fur. "I'm impressed with this dog. I questioned your judgment when you told us what you were going to do with him, but we'd still be spinning our wheels without him. Was he ever K-9?"

"No. But we took him undercover with us a few times. And we taught him some things." It still took a lot of effort to keep his voice from shaking.

"Like 'cops and robbers'?"

"Yeah."

Benson touched his arm. "You want to sit down, Bobby?"

He shook his head. "I'll just stay here and hold up this wall until Eames comes down."

They heard the sirens in the distance and listened as they came closer. The sounds of doors slamming followed, and several uniformed officers came through the doorway. Benson directed them upstairs then looked out the door. "The ambulance is here, and so is CSU."

Eames came down the stairs as the CSU techs came into the building. One of the techs looked at the four detectives. "You guys are keeping us hopping tonight."

Benson grinned and sent them up the stairs, along with the paramedics. Eames was watching her partner with worried eyes and he knew it. He said quietly, "I'm all right now, Eames."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"They'll take the suspect to the prison ward at Bellevue. We can interrogate him there, but probably not until tomorrow." She looked at Benson and Stabler. "We'll call you, so the four of us can go talk to him."

"That'll set him right at ease," Goren muttered, stepping away from the wall. He faltered a little and Eames grabbed his arm.

"Right now, we're taking you to the emergency room," she said.

"Vet first," he reminded her.

"Right. Come on, cowboy. The car's right outside." She looked over her shoulder at Benson as she followed him out the door, one hand on his uninjured arm, the other against the small of his back.

When they had gone, Stabler leaned against a crate and looked at his partner. "I was wrong about him, Liv."

"How so?"

"He put himself in the line of fire because I have kids. He wasn't even willing to put the dog in danger, and if it hadn't been for the dog, he might have been killed. He's not crazy, not the way people think."

She was glad to hear him say that. She had reached the same conclusion after watching him interact with little Charlie the night of the first killing. "Come on, Elliot. Let's get your shoulder looked at before IAB gets a hold of you. Goren will back you up on this shooting, won't he?"

"Yeah, he will."

He pushed off from the crate and followed his partner from the building.


	11. Aftermath

Eames glanced at her partner as she drove toward the veterinary emergency room the department used for its K-9 unit. There was no way she'd get him to agree to be seen at any ER until the dog was well taken care of. Stubborn idiot. He was looking out the window, right arm tight against his abdomen, left hand, still trembling, pressed against his mouth. She wondered if he wasn't settling into shock, physical and emotional. She wouldn't be surprised if he was. "Bobby?"

"What?"

He answered right away; that was a good sign. "What happened back there?"

"Do we have to talk about it now?"

"Yes. I have to know. I've never seen you like that before. You scared me."

"I scared myself. I've been close to the edge, Eames, but I've never been that close."

"What was it...? What pushed you to the edge?"

"A combination of things. The victims and...what he did to them, Barry's family, the...connection I made...between the perp...and my dad..." He trailed off, his voice shaking, the trembling in his body worsening. "But it was...the cologne...and...the memories it triggered that...did me in."

"Because of your dad."

He fidgeted uncomfortably, twisting his hands together in front of him. Bingo. She knew she'd hit it. He looked out the window. She reached over and laid her hand on his arm. "Don't you dare shut down on me. Talk to me. Let me know the competition, Bobby."

"C-competition?"

"Yes. I know you struggle with your own demons, and this demon almost took you away from me. I don't want that to happen again. So talk to me. Tell me what upset you so badly, where this all came from. I need to understand."

He was very quiet for a long moment. He wasn't sure how much he wanted her to know. His childhood had been nothing like hers. She had an idea of how it had been, but her ideas and his reality were worlds apart. In drawing those worlds closer, he couldn't get rid of the fear he might drive her away. He chose his words very carefully. "Old Spice," he mumbled softly. "That's what my dad wore. I have no fond memories of that scent. And when he'd come home late... He never tried to hide it. At the time, all I knew was that it upset my mom. So I'd defend her. That wasn't the thing to do, but I'd try. Every damn time." He shifted in the seat. "We've both had a hard time with this case, Eames, but somehow that scent made it more...personal to me. All the anger and hate from the past...collided with the anger and frustration of the case...and...I don't know...something finally snapped."

He could talk about it...that was a good sign. There was one more thing that troubled her, one more answer she needed. "Bobby, would you have pulled that trigger?"

"I don't know. I can't answer that." He shifted again. "But I do know one thing. The day that you can't reach me is the day I'll never come back."

She heard the tremor in the deep breath he took as he pressed his head against the window, closing his eyes. She glanced at him. He was agitated and restless, the way he always got when he was troubled, but he had no way to exert that energy sitting in the car. She understood now what had happened and felt reassured. He would be ok; she'd make sure of that. As always, she would take care of her partner. She reached over and rested her hand on his thigh, and he let her. She was relieved to feel his muscles relax a little under her hand.

---------------------------------------------

She pulled up to the veterinary hospital. "Do you want me to take him in?"

He shook his head. "I'll do it. But if you want to come along..."

She opened her door without hesitation. He almost smiled as he got out of the car and opened the back door for King. The shepherd jumped out of the car, yelping when his front legs hit the ground. He circled to Goren's side when the big cop dropped to a knee and Eames watched as he buried his face in King's ruff. She knew he blamed himself for the dog's injury. She walked over to them and reached out to him, lightly caressing the back of his neck above the collar of his t-shirt. He took an unsteady breath and she could still feel the tremble in his body under her fingers. He looked up at her, keeping his eyes on hers as he stood. Her lips curved into a small smile of reassurance and they went into the building.

A technician came into the reception area, stopping in her tracks when she saw the two detectives, taking in Goren's bloody arm and pale face. "Uh, this is a veterinary hospital."

Annoyed, Goren slid his badge off his belt and nodded at the dog. "He was shot tonight, during a shootout with a suspect."

"Bring him right back."

They followed her into an exam room, and a doctor joined them right away. Goren leaned back against the wall, waiting. Eames stepped up beside him, leaning her arm against his. The vet looked up at them. He nodded at Goren's bloody arm. "Looks like you need some attention, too, detective."

Eames answered, "We're heading there next. He wanted to make sure King is ok first."

"King will be fine, but I'm going to have to put him under to get the bullet out. He's a healthy dog?"

"Yes."

"You should be able to pick him up tomorrow. Has he eaten in the last ten or so hours?" Goren shook his head. "Then we'll get right on it and do the surgery now."

"Make sure you take good care of him." His voice carried a tone that was half directive, half plea.

"Don't worry about him. You go get your injuries taken care of."

Goren stepped up to the table and leaned over the dog. King licked the side of his face and whimpered. "Be a good dog. I'll see you tomorrow."

The same technician met them in the hallway. "I'll need some information before you leave."

Goren pulled his card from the back pocket of his jeans and handed it to her. "His name is King. He's seven years old and he's healthy. I'll be responsible for the bill. Call me if anything comes up."

She nodded. "Thank you, detective."

They headed back out to the car. "You must really be feeling badly," Eames observed.

"I am," he answered as he slid into the car. "Uh, why did you say that?"

"You're not your usual charming self."

"Oh. Sorry."

She studied him. "Let's get you to the hospital. You really don't look good."

-------------------------------------------

She called Deakins when they got to the hospital. "What's going on, Alex? I've heard eight different versions of what happened. Who shot the guy?"

"Stabler did."

"And Goren?"

"He took a bullet in the arm, and King took a bullet for him that would probably have killed him."

"Nice. I need to hire that dog. How is he?"

"We took him to the same vet the K-9s go to. They say he'll be ok."

"Where were you when this all went down? You don't normally trust anyone else to back up your partner, and I can't believe you'd trust Stabler of all people."

"We were doing our jobs. Benson and I were processing the scene. Goren and Stabler followed the dog after the perp. We got there shortly after the shooting ended. Elliot did a good job, Captain."

"I heard that Goren looked rough when you guys left. Is he ok?"

"Not at the moment, but I think he will be. We're at the hospital now, but we can come in later, if you need us."

"No. Bellevue reports they took the guy into surgery and he won't be 'receptive to interviewing' until late tomorrow, maybe. Will you two be up to it by then?" He knew they worked as a team. One never did as well without the other; her maternity leave had proven that beyond all doubt.

"We should be."

"Then I'll have Logan and Barek handle anything that comes up today and I'll see you two tomorrow. Call me and let me know what the doctor says."

"I will."

She closed the phone and looked at her partner, who was watching her. "The suspect won't be ready to be questioned until tomorrow. Logan and Barek can handle whatever comes up today and you are going inside to see a doctor. Sound like a plan?"

"I have a choice?"

"Did I give you that impression? Move it, Goren."

--------------------------------------------------------

Three hours later, they left the hospital. His arm was bandaged and in a sling, and she was annoyed with him. They wanted to admit him, to get the bullet out of his arm, but he refused. He wanted a chance to interview the suspect and he was not going to give it up. Three doctors tried to convince him to stay, to no avail. And he refused to let her say a word on the subject. He knew that if anyone could make him do something he didn't want to do, she could. He threatened to get up and walk out of the ER, leaving her there, if she didn't drop the subject. So she let him have it his way, for now, after getting him to swear he would let them do the surgery once he had a chance to interrogate their suspect. After giving him an injecton of a mild sedative to help him settle down, the doctor gave him two pill bottles--one had a stronger sedative in it to help him sleep, the other had pain medicine--and a written prescription for antibiotics, and he let them leave with the promise of returning within two days to get his gunshot wound properly cared for.

She didn't say anything from the time they left the hospital until she parked the car, and he didn't have it in him any more to try to draw her into a conversation. But he knew she was annoyed, and when she parked outside her apartment, he looked at her. "You could just drop me off at my place, you know?"

"Bobby, it's been a long, hard night and we're both exhausted. You've refused medical treatment..."

"No, Eames..." He held up a finger. "I didn't refuse treatment. I just postponed it."

"Semantics. Look, just let me take care of you, ok?"

He studied her face for a minute before he finally got out of the car. He was still agitated and unsettled, and the last thing he wanted was to fight with his partner. He didn't know where that would lead, but wherever it was, he knew for certain he didn't want to go there. She came around the car and followed him into the building.

She tossed her keys on a small table near the door. "Give me those pill bottles."

"You going to take them?"

"No, ass. You are."

"I thought you weren't mad any more."

"I'm not, but I'm going to be if you give me any grief about taking that sedative."

"What? If you knock me out I can't argue with you?"

She walked up to him and grabbed his hand. "Look at you. You're still shaking. The doctor said you need this and..."

"Yeah, yeah, I was there, remember?"

"Now you're being irritable. Give me the damn pill bottles or I'll get them myself."

He looked at her, tipping his head to the side. "You'd do that?"

"You want to try me?"

For the first time in days, it seemed, he smiled at her. "Another time, I would take you up on it." He shoved his hand in his pocket and handed her the bottles.

She gave him an odd look and took the bottles from his hand. "Sit down, Bobby." She went into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. She looked at the two pill bottles. One had half a dozen pills, the other had one. She opened the bottle with the single pill and dumped it into her hand, setting the other aside. "Here you go."

"Really, I feel better. I just need some sleep..."

"And this will help you get it. Now take it. And swallow it, Bobby."

With a sigh of resignation, he put the pill in his mouth and took a drink. She stood there with her hands on her hips, frowning. "I took it, Eames. Don't look at me like that."

She eased herself onto the couch beside him. "Are you really feeling better?"

He nodded. "I feel...okay now."

"That shot must be working by now. Do you want something to eat?"

"No, thanks. I'm not hungry." He rested his head back, then turned to look at her. "But if you want to eat, go ahead."

She reached her hand toward him, touching his temple with her fingertips. He tensed for a second, then closed his eyes. Quietly, he said, "I'm sorry, Eames."

She slid her fingers into his hair and he leaned toward her. "Sorry? For what?"

He sighed, settling himself against her. He was no longer trembling. "This was already a difficult case. I...I'm afraid I didn't help matters any, did I?"

She pressed her lips against his head. "It's ok."

"Is it?" He lifted his head and turned so he could see her face. "Is it really ok?"

A big, tough cop with the vulnerability of a little boy, a vulnerability he allowed no one to see. No one, except her. It was a special privelege, she knew, seeing this side of him. And that more than made up for the side she saw earlier. She slid her hand along the side of his face, and she liked the feel of his whiskers against her palm. "Yes, Bobby. It really is ok."

She leaned closer and gently kissed him, easing his upper body down against her legs. She could feel the tension fade from his body as he relaxed. When she sat back, he opened his eyes halfway. "Why did you...do that?" he asked, tentatively.

"Because I wanted to," she answered, and she knew it was the right answer.

He touched her lips with his fingers. "Thank you," he whispered. His eyelids were heavy, and she knew the sedative, along with everything else, was catching up to him. It would hit him like a freight train...but he didn't care...because she was there to catch him when he faltered.

He didn't fight it. He let everything slide away, but before he drifted off, he slid an arm around her and held her close. He wasn't going to let her go...because he needed her.

She slid her body down until his head was resting on her chest, curving the rest of her body around him. His arm tightened around her and he sighed in his sleep. And, finally able to let go of the stress that had kept her body in its grip like a vice, she also went to sleep.


	12. Quiet Time

He tried to turn over, but he couldn't. Slowly, as awareness returned, he realized why. There was a warm, soft body tangled with his own. He searched his memory, trying to figure out why she was there, and, slowly, his mind kicked into gear and he did remember. And with his memory, came another awareness, of pain. He tried to move his injured arm, but it wouldn't cooperate, and the little movement he did manage sent a flare of pain shooting through to his shoulder, across his chest and up into his head. He groaned.

His soft moan of pain woke her. She shifted her hips against him and reached her hand up to caress his cheek. "Are you ok?" she asked sleepily.

"Yeah, sure," he whispered, not willing to disturb or worry her.

She started to drift off again, and he tried hard to suppress another moan, but he couldn't quite manage it. "Bobby, what's wrong?"

"Wrong? Not a thing," he said softly.

"Does it hurt?"

"You've been shot before. What do you think?"

"Right," she replied. "Stupid question. Sorry."

She softly kissed his head and disentangled herself from him. She got up and went into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water and a pill bottle. He didn't fuss at all when she handed him the medicine. She rested her arm on the back of the couch, letting her fingers lightly touch his temple. "Hungry?" she asked.

He wasn't really, but he knew if he told her that she'd fuss, since he hadn't eaten anything since sometime the day before. He just shrugged, noncommitally. She chose to read that as an affirmative. "Coffee?"

"Ok."

He slowly sat up, taking the medicine, then resting his head against the back of the couch and closing his eyes again. His arm was hurting badly enough to push any roaming thoughts from his mind. When her lips softly brushed his temple, he forced his eyes open. She handed him a sandwich and a cup of coffee as she sat beside him. "Thanks, Eames."

"Is it that bad?"

He hesitated, but he knew she'd know he was lying if he said it wasn't. "Yeah, it is."

"You really should..."

"Please, don't," he muttered, cutting her off. He rested his hand lightly on her thigh. "I know how you feel and I understand. But it's not gonna happen. Not until this interrogation is done. Ok?" When she didn't answer or look at him, he leaned closer, bringing his lips close to her ear. "Please understand, Eames. It's not going to be an easy interrogation for any of us, but I have to do it, and I don't want to put it off."

"You're not going to be at your best."

"For sure, but that can't be helped. You'll be there to back me up, so I'll be fine. Stabler and Benson will be there, too. We'll get him."

"You're so damn stubborn, Goren."

"You've known that for years. Would you do me a favor?"

She looked at him suspiciously. "That depends on the favor."

"Would you please get me the number for the vet so I can check on King?"

"They said they'd call..." She trailed off. He was concerned about the dog. King was his responsibility, and he had a real affection for the animal. "Ok, hold on."

She got up and went to the kitchen. He heard her voice, but he was too distracted by his pain to even try paying attention to what she was saying. She returned and handed him the number on a piece of paper. She smiled. "I dated a K-9 officer, so it was easy to get," she said with a smile.

He looked at her, not sure what to make of the look on her face. He assumed she was teasing, but he wasn't up for the game. "Thanks," he muttered.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this interrogation first?"

"I'm sure. Now stop trying to convince me otherwise."

"Can't blame a girl for trying, can you?"

He looked at her. Then he laughed softly and, with his free arm, pulled her into a hug. "What would I do without you?" he said softly into her ear.

She wasn't sure how to answer that, or even if he really wanted an answer. So she didn't answer his question at all. "See how King's doing," she replied, moving to kiss his cheek. But he turned his head at the last second and her lips pressed against his. He brought his hand up and let his fingers touch her cheek. She let the kiss linger before she pulled back and looked at him oddly. "Why'd you do that?" she asked.

"Because I wanted to," he replied with a smile.

She returned his smile and got up from the couch, walking into the kitchen. He pulled out his phone and dialed. "Hello, this is Detective Goren. I'm calling to check on my dog...That's right, King..." She stood in the doorway of the kitchen watching him. He nodded his head and finally said, "Ok, good...Right...I'll pick him up tomorrow morning. Thanks."

"Is he okay?" she asked.

"He's fine."

She watched him dial again, listening to his end of the conversation. She wasn't sure she liked what he was saying. He snapped the phone closed and put it on the coffee table. "Was that Deakins?'

He nodded. "The prints didn't bring a hit on any of our databases, but they matched the partials we have at all four of the scenes. We have no idea who he is. Carver is chomping at the bit to get this guy. He's out of surgery and they say he'll be ready for questioning tomorrow afternoon. We're going to have an audience. Both captains will be present and so will Carver and SVU's ADA, Novak."

"And after that..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You have a one-track mind, Eames."

She stepped around to the couch and sat beside him. "Yes, I do. The welfare of my partner," she answered, leaning closer. "And the health of my best friend."

He reached toward her and pulled her against his chest. "I'll be okay," he whispered into her hair. "You can take me back to St. Vincent's right after the interrogation. But I'd like you to do one thing for me."

"What's that?"

"Take care of King while I'm in the hospital."

"I can do that for you."

He kissed her temple and tightened his arm around her. "Stay at my place with him. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble with your landlord."

Nodding, she grabbed the remote from the coffee table and snuggled into his side as he sat back. She noticed that he was breathing a little easier, his body a little less tense. The pain was fading. She turned the television on, found a movie, and laid her arm across him. She never realized how much she really enjoyed being close to him.

He watched her get comfortable and he smiled. Having her beside him like this was...nice, really nice. He could easily get used to this. The pain in his arm was fading and his head no longer hurt. He was content. The upcoming interrogation faded from his mind, and, for a change, so did the case. All he cared about right now was the woman curled against his side and the fact that, in spite of all his issues, she did love him.


	13. The Interrogation of John Doe

Eames kept glancing at her partner as she manuvered through traffic on the way to Bellevue. Finally, he said, "Stop it, Eames. I'm ok."

"Are you positive you're up for this?"

He sat up straighter in his seat and looked at her. "Ok, let's have it. Why are you so nervous about this?"

She was quiet for a moment. "The last time you were with him..." She trailed off, still frightened by the memory of what she had seen in his eyes then. There had been no trace of her partner in those eyes. He had retreated to some remote corner of his mind, and she was glad she'd been able to reach him. The thought that the day might come when she couldn't terrified her.

He was afraid that was what had been troubling her. "You have no idea how sorry I am you had to see that. But it's over. I can do this. Trust me."

Trust him. More than almost anything else, he relied on her to trust him, to back him up, even when the world thought he was being unreasonable. "I do trust you. But I worry about you, too."

He smiled. "I'm not fragile. We'll do fine."

"How's your shoulder?"

He had taken the maximum dose of painkiller when he woke that morning but had refused it since. "It hurts, but it's not unmanageable."

"If it gets bad..."

"Then it gets bad. Do not interfere with this interrogation, Eames. Please. We need to nail this guy for all four of these murders. Let me do my job."

_Stubborn, stubborn idiot_, she thought. But she knew he was right. She laid a hand on his arm and squeezed. She would say no more about it, but he couldn't keep her from worrying. That was something she would always do.

---------------------------------------------------

Stabler was pacing. He couldn't get the rumors out of his head. Half of them said Goren was unstable and unpredictable in the interrogation room. The other half said he was brilliant. Which to believe? He would have opted for the former had he not been in that abandoned building with him yesterday. Goren knew he didn't like him, and yet he took the greater risk so that Stabler could go home to his children. Unstable? Hell, no.

"Elliot?" He stopped pacing and looked at his partner. "Why are you so nervous?"

"This is an important interrogation, Liv. If this lowlife walks, more girls will die."

"Why would he walk? Are you afraid that Goren will screw this up?"

"I don't know..."

"Have you taken the time to even look at his record, El? Four years in Narcotics and he had a 100 per cent conviction rate. He and Eames have the highest solve and conviction rate in the department. If he walks, it's not going to be because Bobby screwed it up."

Stabler studied her. "Why do you stick up for him like this?"

"Because you are being unreasonable. I've talked to his partner. She thinks highly of him, and there's gotta be a reason she does. So far, he has done nothing to make me not like him. I'm giving him a chance, which is more than you have done from the start."

He sighed. "I told you yesterday I was wrong about him. I appreciate what he did. If it wasn't for the dog, he wouldn't have come out of that place alive, and he willingly took that risk so I wouldn't have to. He did that for my kids. That's not something I'll forget."

"Then ease up and trust him a little. We told Captain Deakins we'd let Bobby lead the interrogation, and we have to trust them."

He leaned against the wall. "I'll try."

They looked down the hall as Deakins and Carver approached them, followed shortly by Cragen and Novak. And they waited. Cragen looked at Deakins, who answered the unspoken question. "They're on the way."

"How is Goren?" Cragen asked.

"He said he was okay."

"Have you seen him?"

"No, not yet."

They heard the elevator bell and, moments later, Goren and Eames came around the corner. "Sorry we're late," Eames said as they approached. "We had to drop King off at the squad room."

"Who's watching him?" Deakins asked.

"Logan and Barek."

The captain looked at Goren. "How are you?"

"Fine. Let's get this over with."

Deakins' eyes shifted to Eames, who slightly shook her head. He wasn't surprised. He looked back at Goren. "You're sure you don't want to put this off for a few days?"

"I'm sure." He looked at Stabler and hesitated. "How's your shoulder?"

"Sore, but ok. It was just a flesh wound. You?"

"A little more than a flesh wound, but I'm all right."

"How's the dog?"

"Fine, thanks."

"Are you ready to do this?"

"Yes." He looked at his partner. As long as she was there, he was ready for anything.

Carver said, "As soon as Mr. Sutton arrives, we can proceed."

"Sutton?" Eames said. "The court appointed Sutton? Mr. Carver, he's going to invoke the suspect's right to silence. We have to do this interview."

Carver studied her. "You have been spending entirely too much time with your partner, detective. Mr. Doe has rights that are _guaranteed_ by law."

Goren frowned darkly at him. "And what about the rights of the little girls he killed?"

"_Allegedly_ killed, detective."

"Oh, bullshit. He killed them. We know he did."

"We know no such thing, not until a jury says that he did."

Eames saw where this was going and she didn't like it. They'd been down this road before and it always resulted in her spending too much time calming down an irate and agitated partner. She hated bearing the brunt of his anger at Carver. She was going to nip this one in the bud, so she placed her hands on her partner's arm and pushed him away from the group _before_ he exploded at Carver. "Settle down, Bobby," she said softly. "He can pull you off this interrogation and then I'll kick your ass for provoking him. We'll get him, ok? You know how to get around these things."

"And if Sutton gets off that elevator and invokes?"

"We'll deal with it, just like we always do. Don't let your emotional involvement cloud your judgment. That will throw everything into question. Let's play it by ear. Carver's right, and it's his job to make sure we don't cross a line that will get this case tossed by a judge. You know that. It's frustrating, but it's what we have to deal with. Let's just eliminate that resonable doubt. That's _our_ job."

He nodded. "I know."

They returned to the group. Goren gave Carver a dark look, but he said no more. Carver understood his frustration and his passion, and he wanted to nail this guy as much as the detectives did. But he had to make sure it was done right, so he could get a conviction and make it stick. He was the one who had to deal with the defense. And speak of the devil, here he was, strolling down the hall looking much more confident than he should.

Sutton grinned at the group. "Good afternoon. If you would give me a moment to talk with my client, we can begin."

"You're not invoking right off the bat?" Novak asked, surprised.

"Not yet. I'll let you know when I decide enough is enough." He looked at Goren before he disappeared into his client's room.

So they waited while Sutton talked to his client. Carver and Novak conversed in soft tones, planning a joint prosecution with Arthur Branch's blessing. Deakins and Cragen also spoke together, although Deakins frequently glanced over at his detectives. He had no doubt that Eames would take care of her partner, but he was still worried. Goren didn't look so well. The four detectives remained silent. Three of them leaned against the wall, watching Goren pace, lost in thought. Benson leaned toward Eames and gently nudged her. Eames looked at her, seeing the unspoken question. "He's ok," she whispered. "He's just thinking."

Benson nodded, then looked at Stabler, who still looked uneasy. Seeing the big detective come close to snapping at the ADA did not inspire confidence in him. He'd sure be glad when this was over.

The room door finally opened and Sutton looked at the four detectives. "Mr. Doe will talk to you now, but watch your step." He looked pointedly at Goren. "I will not hesitate to stop this interrogation if things get out of hand."

"Don't worry, counsellor," Deakins replied for the detectives. "Our detectives know what they're doing."

Sutton stepped aside and let the police officers and the two lawyers enter the room.

John Doe was sitting up in the bed, eyeing the four detectives without emotion. His face was blank. Goren looked at him for a long moment, his head tipped thoughtfully to the left. "Uh, Mr. Doe...is that the name you want us to use? John Doe? Or do you have another name?"

"John Doe will do."

"It doesn't matter what we call you. We want to ask you some questions about a couple of things that have happened in the past week."

Doe shrugged. "Ask your questions."

"What were you doing in that building?"

"Getting shot by cops." He looked at the four detectives. "Which one of you shot me?"

"That would have been me," Stabler answered.

He glared at the former Marine and snarled, "Lucky shot." Then he looked back at Goren and indicated his slinged arm. "And that?"

"Your bullet."

"I guess my aim was off. I was shooting to kill."

Sutton bristled at the admission. "Mr. Doe, I must advise you..."

Doe raised a hand at the lawyer. "You just stand there and be quiet. I want to talk to these folks and it's my right to do so. Continue, Detective...uh?"

"Goren."

"Ok, then. Continue, Detective Goren."

"Gunfight aside, why were you in that building?"

"My apartment is being fumigated and I needed a place to sleep."

"Funny. We had an incident occur not far from there, just the other side of the park, actually. A little girl was hurt and we tracked the suspect to that building."

"That don't say much for your tracker."

"Our tracker is very good. Of course, when the little girl recovers..."

"What?"

"When the little girl recovers, she'll be able to identify her attacker."

"That's impossible."

"What is?"

Sutton stepped forward. "I think we're done here..."

Doe threw back his blanket and got out of the bed. Goren didn't move. He got right in the suspect's face. "What's your lawyer afraid of, Mr. Doe? He doesn't want you to continue. We've got a witness who can nail you to the wall, dead to rights. We have another one from Wednesday morning, too. That's two witnesses..."

Doe swung his fist, connecting solidly with Goren's jaw and sending him back into his partner. Stabler jumped forward and grabbed the suspect, who screamed, "You're lying! There were no witnesses! Those kids were dead when I left them! I made sure of it! Just like last time! I don't fucking make mistakes!"

In an attempt not to slam into Eames with his full body weight, Goren had shifted as he fell and landed directly on his injured arm. He stayed where he landed, trying hard not to pass out from the pain. Eames hit the floor hard, but she got right up and scrambled to his side. Benson had gone to help her partner, and they were holding on to the still struggling and screaming suspect. Deakins and Cragen had knelt beside Eames at Goren's side and the three lawyers watched. Sutton was shaking his head and grumbling, "I hate it when Goren interrogates my clients."

Eames gently laid her hand on Goren's shoulder and leaned down. "Bobby?"

"Give me another minute, Eames." He waited until the pain faded to the point where he knew he would no longer pass out or puke. "Ok," he managed.

Deakins and Cragen helped him up. He left behind a smear of blood on the floor; the sling on his arm was quickly turning red. Deakins looked at Eames. "Get him down to the ER and have that arm taken care of now. We've gotten what we need from Mr. Doe."

He let her guide him out of the room, but halfway to the elevator, he stopped and turned to look back toward the room. "'Just like last time.' Last time? Eames? Did you hear what he said? He said 'just like last time'."

"Calm down, Bobby." She pulled him back around to face her. "Listen to me, dammit. We'll get it all figured out. But right now, we're going down to the ER to get your arm taken care of. Doe is not in any shape to answer more questions and you're not in any shape to ask them. He's not going anywhere. We've nailed him on these murders. Now come on." When he hesitated again, she leaned closer and reminded him, "You promised me."

That did it. He looked at her and conceded, continuing to the elevators with her. "Make sure they compare his DNA to any cases with similar MOs, solved or not."

"All right. I'll make sure it gets done."

They took the elevator to the ground floor and followed the signs to the emergency room. A nurse came over to them as soon as she realized the red coloring in the sling on his arm was blood. Eames sat with him while they worked him up for surgery, but he didn't do much talking. They started an IV and gave him something powerful for the pain, so she sat quietly and let the interrogation replay in her mind. She didn't remember Doe saying anything about last time, but she trusted Goren's memory that he did. It must have been right after he'd punched him and sent them both crashing to the floor. When they came to take him to surgery, he was already unconscious, but she'd kissed him anyway and walked with him as far as they would let her go.

Not long after she settled herself in a chair to wait, Deakins arrived with Benson and Stabler. The captain gave her a fatherly smile. "You look lost, Alex."

"He wasn't doing so well when we got here," she commented. "The pain was wearing him down."

"They'll get him patched up. He'll be ok. Now, how are you doing?"

"I feel better now that he's getting his arm taken care of. What happened upstairs?"

Stabler replied, "Sutton's going for a psych defense."

"Of course he is."

Eames sighed heavily. "Did any of you hear Doe say anything about 'the last time'?"

Benson nodded. "After he freaked out and punched Bobby, he screamed something about leaving the kids dead just like last time."

"Bobby was concerned about it, but I didn't remember him saying it."

Stabler gave her half a grin. "You were busy bouncing off the floor. I'm surprised he heard it."

"He doesn't miss much." She looked at Deakins. "We need to ask the MEs to compare Doe's DNA to other cases with similar MOs, solved and unsolved."

Deakins nodded. "I'll call as soon as I get back to my office."

Stabler regarded Deakins carefully. "You put a lot of stock in Goren's hunches, don't you?"

"I've learned that he's usually right. He has a good instinct, and he knows what he's doing."

"I see that." He walked over to where his partner sat on the other side of Eames. Deakins smiled at his detective. "Is he still more than you bargained for when you decided to stay for the long haul as his partner?"

She smiled back at him. "Bobby is never what I bargained for. But he makes me look forward to coming in to work every day. I never know what to expect, and I love that about him."

"You get enjoyment and I get ulcers," the captain smiled. Eames laughed. Yes, that was her Bobby. Pain and pleasure. And she wouldn't want him any other way.


	14. A Promise

**A/N: Just a little break for fluff. Enjoy :-)**

* * *

There was darkness, and in the darkness there was no pain. Awareness came first, and he wondered at the absence of pain, but only for a minute. As the darkness began to recede, pain hit full force, and he groaned. He heard voices in the distance but he couldn't make out what they were saying. His arm felt stiff, and he tried to move it, but the searing pain that shot through his shoulder and into his head drove him back toward the darkness. He tried to shift his position, but it was no use. The pain was overwhelming. He groaned again.

He was having trouble sorting out the voices from the background noises, and he gave up trying. He couldn't make out the only voice he wanted to hear anyway. He tried to move again, and again the pain threatened to consume him.

Slowly, the pain began to recede and he frowned in his mind as he felt the world tilt and spin. He felt sick. He tried to move again and had more success with less pain, but he still had trouble getting comfortable. No, he was so far from comfortable he couldn't remember ever being there at all. He slowly forced his eyes open, squinting against the light. Someone approached his bed. "Eames?"

No, it wasn't her. It was another woman, one he didn't know. She smiled at him. "My name is Martha, and I'm going to be your nurse while you're here in recovery."

"Where's Eames?"

"In the surgical waiting room. Dr. Farcas has already talked with her, so she knows you're doing well. How is your pain?"

He frowned darkly. "I want to see her."

"As soon as..."

"No. Now."

He shifted again, and it didn't hurt as badly. She rested her hand on his shoulder. "Settle down. Let me ask the charge nurse if she can come back. I'll be right back."

He acknowledged her with a brief nod. As she walked away, his eyes slid closed. He tried to force them open again, feeling himself fade in and out and struggling to stay awake. It was hard...until he felt a cool hand come to rest against his cheek. He finally succeeded in forcing his eyes open, and there she was, a small smile on her face. "Are you giving the nurses a hard time?"

"I...wanted to see you."

"Well, here I am. How are you feeling?"

"Not so good."

"Do you need something more for the pain?"

He tried to shift his position again, and another groan was forced from his throat. Eames nodded at Martha, who disappeared from the bedside. "So what's wrong? Why are you being difficult?"

"I wasn't. I just...wanted...you here."

"But why?" She leaned closer to him. "And if you say one word about the case, I'm going home."

One corner of his mouth twitched, but he was in too much pain to smile, even at her. "No, not the case. Just you."

That she could happily accept, and she slid her hand into his. He closed his hand around hers and he fought again to stay awake, which annoyed him. The nurse returned and injected more medicine into his IV, and that was enough to do him in. His eyes closed and, unwillingly, he surrendered to the darkness.

--------------------------------------------------

He felt better when he woke again. The nausea was gone, and so was the spinning sensation. He was able to wake up more easily. The pain was still there, still strong, but no longer overwhelming. He felt a little light-headed from the pain medicine they'd given him, but it was keeping the pain at bay, so he wasn't going to complain. He looked around the room in the dim light. He was in a regular hospital room. He pushed himself up in the bed, groaning involuntarily when he moved his arm. Damn...he had to remember not to do that for awhile. "Bobby?"

"Eames?"

He turned his head toward her voice, watching as she got up from the chair beside the bed. She'd been sleeping. He looked around the room for a clock. Quarter after three? She gave him a sleepy smile and laid her hand over the hand of his injured arm, which rested across his chest. "How do you feel?"

He raised his free hand to the side of her face. "Go home, Eames," he whispered. "You should already be in bed."

"I'm fine. Mike took King home with him for tonight. I had to be sure you're ok, and I know you can understand that so don't give me any grief. Now answer my question."

He caressed her cheek with his thumb. "I feel better." He lightly let his fingers stray across her ear. She closed her eyes, enjoying his light touch more than she probably should. She felt his fingers slide into her hair and she had all the willpower of a wet noodle when he applied a small amount of pressure to bring her forward. When his lips touched hers and he kissed her deeply, she felt the support flow out of her knees, forcing her to lean against the bed to prevent ending up in a heap on the floor. She brought her hands up to frame his face, deepening the kiss further without giving it any thought. It had been many years since a kiss from any man had made her weak-kneed like that. When she stepped back from the kiss, praying her knees would support her weight again, she just stared at him for a long minute. "Where did that come from?" she whispered.

He gave himself a minute to recover. "I...uh, I needed to do that."

"Because?"

"Because I didn't do it before I went into that building, and I came too close to never coming out of it. I...I had to correct my biggest mistake."

"Which is?"

"Never kissing you like that, the way I've always...wanted to. Please don't be mad."

"Mad?" She leaned her hip against the bed. "No, I'm not mad, not at all. But why now, why here? We were at my place alone all day; why not there?"

"I'm sorry. I was distracted by the case and I didn't really think about it much. But in the ER, I got to thinking, what if King hadn't been with us? I wouldn't be here. And what would my biggest regret have been? It would have been not letting you know how I feel about you. I hope...I haven't done anything wrong."

"Wrong? Bobby, I haven't been kissed like that in longer than I can remember."

"Really?" He had a hard time believing that. "You should be kissed like that...often."

"And who the hell is going to kiss me that way?"

"Well, uh, I just did."

"And you're willing to do it again?"

"If you'll let me."

She smiled. "You keep it up and there's no telling what I'll let you do."

"Is that a promise?"

"That's a promise."


	15. A Very Bad Man

Jimmy Deakins stared at the contents of the folder on his desk, as if staring at them would change what they said. _Son of a bitch_. He got up from his desk and walked to the door of his office, looking across the bullpen. Logan and Barek were busy with paperwork. This was Goren's first day back since his surgery, and he was reviewing a file with Eames looking over his shoulder. They were not going to like what he had to tell them. "Goren, Eames, Logan and Barek, in here, now."

By the time he sat down at his desk, the four detectives were coming through the door. King came in with them and sat beside Eames' chair. Logan was the last one in, and he closed the door behind him. Deakins nodded at the German Shepherd. "Is he a permanent addition to your team?"

Goren laughed softly. "Unfortunately, no. I'm taking him home this weekend."

"Too bad. He'd make a great police dog. He seems to like you, Eames."

She rested her hand on the dog's broad head. "We've bonded," she smiled, glancing at her partner.

Deakins laughed. Then he became serious again and lifted the file from his desk, letting it fall back down with a soft smack. "I just got this. I'll be the first to admit that Carver and I did not take John Doe seriously when he freaked out at the end of the interrogation last week. Neither did Cragen or Novak. But I went ahead and had Rodgers run his DNA against cases in the database with similar MOs, to humor you, Goren."

"You got a hit," Goren commented, not surprised.

"No, we got six hits."

Logan swore. "_Six_?"

Eames really didn't want the answer to her question, but she had to ask it. "Were they all children?"

"No. The first four each involved a single adult female victim. The fifth involved three married couples, two of whom were cop couples. The last one involved two families: four adult vics and six children, ranging in age from 6 months to ten years. Both adult males were cops."

"Were they considered solved?" Goren asked.

"The last two were not. The first four had convictions; they occurred before DNA use was routine. We will be working on getting those convictions overturned and those men released. The first one has almost finished his time. He'd be up for parole next year."

"Ain't that a kick in the pants?" Logan commented. "Was he squeaky clean before he went up?"

"Not hardly. All four of them had records." He looked down at the papers in front of him. "Two for possession, one for domestic violence and the last for assault and battery."

"Now I don't feel so bad," he said.

Goren frowned at him. "How can you say that, Logan? These guys did time--a lot of time--for crimes they did not commit. That's not justice."

Logan met his frown with one of his own. "What are we supposed to do? Turn back the clock and fix it? We let them out, say sorry and get on with it. Don't lose any sleep over this, Goren. We didn't do anything wrong. This falls on Carver and his people, not us. They weren't our cases and I am not going to feel guilty for someone else's mistakes."

"I'm not saying you should, and I don't. I'm just saying it's not right to not feel bad about it."

"Odds are they would have ended up back in jail anyway."

"You can't say that for certain, and you can't play the odds with people's lives."

Logan's eyes narrowed. This wasn't much fun any more; he was getting annoyed now and that's not the way it was supposed to work. "What's done is done, and I am not going to change my attitude so get off my back about it."

"Ok, boys, that's enough," Deakins said. "You want to debate about this, do it later. The point is, Mr. Doe has been busy, doing very bad things for a very long time. Not only do we have him for these murders..." He tapped the file in front of him. "We have him for our four as well, and for shooting Goren and Stabler. Carver and Novak are going to mount a joint prosecution and he should be getting the death penalty."

Logan glanced at Goren. "Feel bad about that?"

Goren frowned. "Why would I? He actually did it."

Barek frowned at her partner. "Why don't you shut up, Logan, before you really piss somebody off?"

Logan grinned. "I wasn't serious."

"Tell me that after he decks you."

Deakins shook his head. "That's it for now. I wanted to let you know about this. You guys did a great job."

Once back at their desks, Logan called out, "Hey, Goren?"

Goren sighed and looked over at him. "What?"

"I didn't mean anything, you know? I just choose not to waste my sympathy on criminals."

"I know. I was just trying to get you to think."

Barek laughed. "Good luck with that."

Goren smiled at her and turned back to the file he'd been looking at when Deakins had called them into his office. Sitting at her desk, Eames balled up a piece of paper and tossed it at him. He looked up. "It's lunchtime," she said.

"Already?"

"Time flies when you're having fun."

He smiled. "What are we having?"

"Let's just go down to the deli."

"Fine with me." He looked over at Logan and Barek. "We're going down to the deli. You guys want to come along or you want us to bring something back for you?"

Logan got to his feet. "Lunch! Come on, Barek."

Barek released a long-suffering sigh. "Thank God I don't have to pay your grocery bill."

----------------------------------------------

The day was winding down. Goren leaned back in his chair, gingerly moving his right arm in its sling. Eames watched the pain register on his face, but it was getting better. She opened her mouth to say something but was cut off by the captain's voice. "How's that pain, Bobby?"

"Getting better. I'll be glad to get rid of this sling."

Deakins pulled up a chair and looked at his best team. "I just talked to Carver. Sutton wants him to deal."

"No way," Eames said.

"Carver's not considering it, is he?" Goren asked, his face carefully guarded.

"He didn't say. Maybe you guys can go have a chat with him. I don't want to see this bastard get any kind of a deal. See what Carver's thinking, ok?"

"We'll see what we can do," Eames said as she stood up, watching her partner for any reaction. It bothered her that there was none.

--------------------------------------------

Ron Carver looked up from his desk as the two detectives came into his office. "What can I do for you, detectives?"

Eames said, "Please tell us you're not going to offer Doe a plea."

"I had a feeling that's why you were here." He sighed. "Here is my dilemma. A jury can go either way. If Sutton mounts a successful insanity defense, Mr. Doe will not serve a day in prison. Personally, I do not think he deserves to serve his time in a psychiatric facility."

"He was sane," Goren asserted. "A crime scene has its own voice, and these scenes do not carry the voice of insanity. A person can carry out heinous crimes and be fully cognizant and aware of what it's doing. He knew, and he chose to commit these crimes. He shows no remorse."

"That may very well be the case, but you know as well as I that sometimes what is and what a jury sees are two different things. I am considering a plea, but one that will guarantee Mr. Doe will spend the rest of his life behind bars without the possibility of parole. At trial, I certainly would seek the death penalty, but I am thinking that a guaranteed life sentence is better than taking the chance that he will get off on an insanity plea."

Goren was frowning, but he had a thoughtful look on his face. Eames asked, "What are you considering offering him?"

"Three life sentences to be served concurrently plus twenty-five to life for the attempted murders of your partner and Detective Stabler. The charges he would face at trial would add up to substantially more, but as I said, at this point, life in prison will satisfy me."

"If there is such a good chance he'll get off on an insanity plea, why is Sutton so willing to deal?" Goren asked.

"Because the alternative if he loses is the death penatly, and he knows the chances are close to fifty-fifty that a jury will go either way. And we probably have the stronger case, and definitely the emotional advantage." He studied Goren. "I know that one of the victims is the child of a friend of yours. How difficult would a trial be for him?"

That was a good point. "Will Sutton accept the deal?"

"I believe he will, since he came to me."

Goren met his partner's eyes. She nodded at him. Finally he looked back at Carver. "You make sense, Mr. Carver. As long as he never sees the light of day again."

"I can promise you he will not, detective."

"Thank you, Mr. Carver."

-----------------------------------------------------

Back at the squad, they relayed to Deakins what Carver had told them. Deakins let the ADA's reasoning run through his mind, then he looked at Goren. "How do you feel about it?"

"If he gets put away with no chance of release, I'm ok with that. A trial would be hell, for all of us."

"I know it's Carver's call. He's okay with this?"

"He seems to be. He doesn't want to see this guy get off by pretending he's insane."

Deakins studied his best detective. "Pretending?"

"He's not insane. And he wasn't when he committed these crimes. I don't know what triggered them, and we may never find out, but he was in his right mind when he did them. I know he was."

Deakins nodded. "I agree with you. Could we convince a jury if we had to?"

Goren shrugged. "You never know with juries."

"Isn't that the truth?" Eames muttered.

Deakins sighed. "Go home. Carver will let me know if he accepts the plea. Make sure he gets some rest, Alex." Goren raised an eyebrow at him and he said, "You look beat. Don't overdo it. I'll see you both in the morning." He watched them leave the office and stop to talk with Logan and Barek. King walked over from under Goren's desk and nuzzled Eames' hand. The four detectives left together, the dog walking between Goren and Eames. And Deakins smiled.


	16. Unwinding

The paperwork, for the moment, was done. Everything was in Carver's hands now. Goren was leaning back in his chair, lost in thought. John Doe was still refusing to reveal his true identity, but it didn't really matter. Whatever his name was, he was going to prison. He heard the phone ring, half-listening as his partner answered it. Her side of the conversation failed to capture his interest and he returned to his thoughts.

"Bobby?"

He turned his eyes toward her. "What?"

"That was Carver. They took the plea."

"That's not a surprise."

"So the case is closed."

"For us, it is." He sighed. "I have to take King home tomorrow. Would you like to come along?"

"Yes, I would. I've grown kind of attached to him."

He smiled. "That's easy to do. You want to drive?"

"That's a stupid question. When do you want me to pick you up?"

"Whenever. I can call Barry when we're on the way. The boys are anxious to have their dog back. We just wanted to make sure he was well-healed so they won't be worried about him." He reached down and stroked the dog's head. "He's ready for them."

She smiled. "Are you ready to give him back?"

"That's not an issue. This has been hard on them and they miss their dog."

Logan and Barek approached them. "Hey," Logan said. "We're going down to Delaney's for dinner. You guys want to join us?"

As always, Goren deferred to his partner, who got to her feet and said, "Sure. We're done here. We'll meet you down there after we run King over to Bobby's."

Logan grinned. "Too bad he can't join us. This was his case, too."

Goren looked at Eames with a smile. "Don't worry about King. He's not being neglected at all."

She gave him a playful shove toward the elevators. "Get going, Goren. I'm hungry and you're buying."

He laughed. "Whatever you say, Eames."

------------------------------------------------------------

After dinner, they headed for the back room and grabbed a pool table. Goren slipped off his sling after arguing with Eames that it wasn't going to do any harm for him to use his arm to prop up a pool cue. After all, he didn't sleep with the sling on. She relented, but he knew she'd be watching him like a hawk.

Halfway through the first game, another couple approached the table. "Anyone playing winners?"

Goren looked up from his shot at Stabler and Benson. He smiled, took his shot and straightened up. "How's your shoulder?" he asked Stabler.

"Fine. We heard you had surgery on that arm."

"The bullet lodged in the bone and they had to get it out."

Eames added, "He's _supposed_ to be wearing a sling..."

He looked at her. "It's fine, Eames. They said I could start weaning off it after two weeks and it'll be two weeks on Tuesday."

She shook her head. "Today is Friday, Goren. That's not even a week and a half."

Smiling, Benson sat down on a stool near Barek as Eames moved to the table to take her shot. "Elliot was supposed to wear one for a day or so because his was a little deeper than a flesh wound. I think he wore it for an hour and a half."

"It's annoying," he protested.

Goren snorted. "Tell me about it."

Eames gave him a look she knew he'd be able to interpret before she sank her ball and headed around the table to take a drink of her rum and coke. Logan grumbled, "Have you been practicing, Eames?"

She smiled at him and nudged Goren. "Your shot."

Logan looked at Stabler. "Looks like you'll be playing them."

Goren stood up as his ball perched on the edge of the pocket. "Your shot, Mike."

Logan looked at the table. "What the hell, Goren..." His best shot was in the pocket blocked by Goren's ball. "Damn it! You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

Goren smiled at him and leaned back against the wall near Eames. "Why would I do that, Mike?"

"You did! Geez..."

Eames looked at her partner and he winked at her. She smiled and rested her hand on his arm. They watched Logan miss his shot and point his stick at Goren. "I'll get you for that."

"Quit bellyaching, Logan," Barek said with a grin. "You just can't accept that he's a better player than you are."

Benson and Stabler leaned back and watched the easy, friendly banter among the Major Case detectives. Benson gently nudged Barek. "Are they always like this?"

"Yes. Mike feels like he has to compete with Bobby in everything. They keep us entertained."

They laughed. Eames stepped up to the table and sank the ball that was perched over the corner pocket. "Eight ball in the side pocket," she called.

Logan groaned when the black ball slipped smoothly into the pocket. "He's been giving you pointers," he accused.

"And what's wrong with that?"

"Well, now Barek and I have to get you _both_ drunk if we want to win a game once in awhile." He looked at Benson and Stabler. "You get to play them. Good luck."

Eames stepped up to him and poked him in the side. "Stop whining," she teased.

He laughed. "I lost; I'm entitled to whine."

She racked the balls while Benson and Stabler chose their cue sticks. Stepping back, she said, "You guys can break."

It was a close game, but once again, Eames sank the eight ball. Logan shook his head. "I told you," he chuckled. "You really want a fun time, play for shots."

Stabler grinned. "I'm up for it. Liv?"

"Sure."

Everyone agreed but Goren. He shook his head. "I'm not stupid. I still need pain medicine to sleep. I'll play, but I'm not taking shots."

Eames walked past him and squeezed his hand. "You can take me home then."

He squeezed back and smiled, leaning close to her ear. "Anytime, Eames."

She laughed and leaned her head briefly against his. "Ok," she said to the group. "Who's breaking?"


	17. The Still of the Night

Friday night and well past midnight, five drunk cops lingered outside Delaney's, waiting for their cabs. One sober cop stood nearby, watching with a small, amused smile on his face, judging the degree of intoxication of each one, based on body size and alcohol volume. Three women, not one of them very big. Barek and Benson were close, both in size and the amount they'd had to drink. Barek held her alcohol a little better. But neither was falling down drunk, and he knew why. Benson had been downing only every other shot, so she'd had half as much as her partner. Barek, on the other hand--and she made him laugh--had been slipping every other shot to her partner. That was why Logan was having trouble standing and Eames was holding him propped up against the wall. He was kind of trying to flirt with her, but she could handle him. Stabler held his alcohol very well. He was still unsteady, and he was not a happy drunk, but he wasn't violent either. Just...melancholy...probably because of his recent divorce and subsequent separation from his kids. That had to be hard, and he felt for the guy. Finally, his eyes and his thoughts settled on Eames. The smallest of the group, she'd had the least to drink because he knew how to play pool well. Drunk, yes. But not falling down, won't-remember-this-tomorrow drunk. Just...feeling good. He liked it when she got this way, although usually he was quite a bit ahead of her. For a change, though, it was nice to watch her with a clear mind when hers wasn't.

He walked over to where she was laughing at Logan. "Uh, Mike, you want my couch tonight?"

Logan's place was the furthest from Delaney's, and he had given Goren his couch more than once when they'd been drunk in his area of town. "Sure. You got any food in your fridge?"

"Some."

"Hot dogs?"

"How's bologna?"

"Almost as good."

"I even have bread."

"It's not like the last loaf, is it?"

"No. I picked it up the day before yesterday."

"Great. Is Eames coming with us?"

"Why? Haven't you tormented her enough?"

"Are you pissed?"

"No. Should I be?"

"If you're not then, no, I haven't tormented her enough."

Goren laughed. "She's gonna deck your stupid ass long before I get pissed, Mike."

Logan laughed with him and winked at Eames, who shoved him back against the wall with a smile when he started to topple forward.

As the cabs arrived, Goren made sure the drivers had the right addresses and, knowing from experience how difficult it could be to find your wallet after a full night of drinking, he made sure the fares were paid. Stabler was the last to leave. He looked at Goren, hestitating for a moment to get him into focus. "You know, you're nothing like they say you are."

"Thanks, I think."

Stabler grinned. "It's a compliment. Let's do this again some time." He shook Goren's hand. "Thanks."

"Uh, give your kids an extra hug when you see them."

"Yeah, I will."

He waved to Eames, who smiled and waved back. "Get home safe, Elliot."

Goren turned back toward his partner. "Ready?"

He took over supporting Logan as they headed for the car. He'd done this before, and so had Logan. Finally, Goren shoved him into the back seat of the SUV. "You better not puke, Logan," he warned.

"Nah, I'm fine. I'll wait till we get home."

"I appreciate that," Goren muttered.

He walked around the car and opened the door for Eames. Before she got in, he leaned toward her. "Uh, you _are_ welcome to stay at my place, too, if you want."

She looked amused. "You want me to sleep on the couch with Logan?"

He laughed softly. "No. B-but, you can sleep in the bed."

"And you?"

His mouth twitched. "As you so frequently point out, I don't need much sleep."

"And what would you do if we slept in the bed together tonight?"

He wasn't sure what to make of that, or what answer she was looking for. "I, uh, I would behave myself."

"You got that right," she responded with a smile. "All right, Bobby, I'll stay, but only if you promise you'll get some sleep, too. You're still recovering from getting shot remember?"

"How can I forget? You keep reminding me."

She laughed. "So I do. Let's get going."

He sighed, stepping back and letting her get into the car. He slowly made his way around to the driver's side. What the hell did he just do?

----------------------------------------

Goren dropped Logan onto the couch after half-carrying him from the car to the elevator and the elevator to the apartment. King came over to greet them, licking Logan's face. Logan grumbled at him, calling him 'Nancy' before fading back out again. Eames looked at Goren. "Nancy?"

"Uh, yeah, she's a nice girl. He picked her up a couple of weeks ago. I didn't know he was still seeing her, but, apparently he is."

"You have to tell me about your escapades sometime."

"Maybe..."

"With the proper motivation?"

He raised his eyebrows. "I...I am going to step away from this conversation, Eames, before I get myself into trouble." He motioned toward the bedroom. "You know where my shirts are if you want to change."

He watched with a smile as King followed her down the hall, then he went into the kitchen and got a drink of water. Maybe if he waited long enough, she'd be asleep and he could tell her he slept...yeah, that would work...like hell it would. He slowly finished the water, then returned to the living room. Logan hadn't moved. Goren grinned. He went to the hall closet for a blanket and pillow. The bedroom door opened and he glanced toward it, doing a double take. Hell...she always looked good in his clothes. She smiled. "What?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing."

She took the blanket and pillow from him. "Now you get changed." When he didn't move, she gave him a gentle shove. "Go. I'll tuck Logan in."

He watched her walk into the living room. Tuck him in? _Lucky bastard_...he sighed and went into the bedroom. Well, he'd be damned if he was going to sleep in his boxers, so he changed into a t-shirt and shorts. It was good enough. She came into the room and closed the door. "Relax," she said. "I'm not going to attack you."

She climbed into the bed. She loved his bed--it was very comfortable. But he had always slept on the couch when she'd slept here. Even now, she couldn't guarantee he would lay down beside her. "Come on, Bobby. I trust you."

He knew she did...he just wasn't sure he trusted himself. "Look, Eames...maybe I should just..."

"What are you afraid of? Think you can't behave."

"N-no. It's not that." _The hell it wasn't_...

"Ok, then."

"I...I need to...get my medicine."

"Ok, then get it. I'm going to sleep."

He felt an odd mixture of relief and disappointment. "Good night, Eames."

She watched him leave the room, laughing quietly when King jumped up on the bed and curled up against her. "At least I'll have a warm body to sleep with tonight," she muttered, stroking the dog's head affectionately as she waited...and waited... Damn, she was glad she was only moderately drunk, or she'd have passed out already. He was so damn stubborn. When she heard him coming, she turned over and pretended to be sleeping, knowing he would never lay down if he thought she was awake. Still, he hesitated. She watched through mostly closed eyes as he paced the room, looked out the window and paced some more. Finally, he muttered something to King, who hopped off the bed and curled up on the floor beside the bed. He slid into the bed beside her, turned his back to her and slowly let out his breath. She tried hard not to laugh. She watched his shoulders slowly relax as he settled in, convinced she was sleeping. And she smiled. Reaching toward him she rested her hands on his back, not surprised when every muscle she touched tensed up. But he didn't jump out of the bed, which was a good sign. Gently she rubbed his back, patiently waiting as his muscles slowly relaxed. She moved closer, sliding her arm across his abdomen and up to his chest, bringing her mouth to his ear. "I know you promised to behave," she whispered. "But I never did."

_Fuck_. "Eames..." He lost his train of thought entirely when she nuzzled his ear and then his neck. He caught his breath, turning onto his back so he could look at her. But words failed him. Her hand rubbed small circles on his chest and he closed his eyes. _Damn...that felt good_... He'd promised himself, and her,he would behave...but his resolve was slowly eroding away as she continued. Then she whispered in his ear, "Do you remember what you told me after your surgery?"

He nodded. He remembered. He was mildly surprised when his mouth worked. "I...I...said you should be...kissed...often."

"Not just kissed," she whispered, her breath caressing his face. Her lips brushed their way across his cheek to his mouth and he surrendered, as she knew he would. He lost track of everything, except the passion in her kiss and the fire in her touch. And he returned her passion. He knew just how to touch her, exactly what he needed to do to get her to respond to him...and she did respond...forgetting about everything but him...

She snuggled against him, again gently rubbing circles on his chest. He looked at her from under heavy lids. She smiled. "I kept my promise," she whispered.

He smiled sleepily. His fingers caressed the curve of her side, her hip. "I, um, I _tried_ to behave myself," he muttered.

"Don't worry, Bobby. You did." She snuggled closer. "I wonder how amazing it would be if I was completely sober."

"Amazing?"

"Don't let it go to your head." She kissed him. Then she kissed him again, lingering longer, enjoying the feel of his hand pressing into the small of her back. She pressed her hand into his chest, sliding her tongue past his teeth and listening to his soft groan. His hand slowly found its way past her waist, his tongue dancing with hers. His lips pressed more firmly against hers, and he took her breath away.


	18. Taking King Home

He woke to a kiss, opening his eyes to look King in the face. He laughed softly. "Ok, hold on."

An arm was draped across his side, her hand flat against his stomach. He liked waking up this way. He _really_ liked it. King licked his face again. "I'm coming, King."

He slid out from under her arm, dressed quietly and left the room with the dog. Logan was snoring on the couch until King went over and licked his face. He snorted, coughed and rolled over, wiping his face in his sleep. Goren laughed and left the apartment with the dog.

He went to the deli down the street and got three coffees, a danish, a buttered roll and a fried egg sandwich. They headed back to the apartment where he set down the food and coffee and went back into the bedroom. She was just waking up. She smiled at him through her hair, and he was charmed, as he always was by her. "Good morning," he said softly.

"How long have you been up?"

"I don't know. Forty-five minutes or so, I guess, maybe an hour. King needed to go for a walk and I got breakfast."

"A danish?"

"Cherry."

"And coffee?"

"Of course."

"I love you." She was up and halfway to the door when she stopped and turned back to him. He looked unsure. She walked to him, placed a hand flat against his chest and leaned up to kiss him. "I _do_ love you."

He placed his hands on her hips and drew her closer. "I love you, too," he whispered, kissing her again. She slid her arms around him, surrendering to his kiss. She didn't know how he did it, and she didn't care. He still made her knees buckle. She took a deep breath when he pulled back a little. "What about your breakfast?" he asked, his eyes bright.

"Will King eat it?"

"No."

"Then it will wait." She leaned back in for another kiss.

-----------------------------------------

Logan groaned and rolled over, the wrong way. He rolled right off the couch and onto the floor. "Shit!"

"Good morning," Goren called from the kitchen.

"Speak for yourself," he grumbled.

Eames appeared by the couch. "Grouchy this morning, aren't we?"

He raised his eyebrows, looking up at her from the floor. She was wearing one of Goren's t-shirts, a baseball jersey that actually looked really good on her, even if it was big, and a pair of jeans. "That's not what you were wearing last night."

"I've always kept a change of clothes here. Don't jump to conclusions."

Goren handed her the coffee he had just reheated and she passed it to Logan. He looked past her at Logan. "It's not the first of my shirts she's stolen."

"And it won't be the last," she retorted with a smile.

Logan's eyes narrowed. "So where'd you sleep, Goren?"

"Who says I slept?" He tossed a paper bag to him. "Eat your breakfast. Eames and I are taking King home. You're welcome to stay if you want. Just lock up when you leave."

Logan looked from one to the other, but their faces told him nothing. King came from out of nowhere and licked his face. "Yeah, yeah, good morning to you, too, King." He got up from the floor, returning his attention to Goren and Eames. "Is there something you aren't telling me?"

"Like what?" Eames asked.

"Like where the hell he slept."

"As long as it wasn't with you, what do you care?" Goren asked.

"You _could_ have slept with me and I'd never have known it." He rubbed his head with a wince. "Man those shots packed a wallop last night." Goren laughed. "What the hell are you laughing at?"

"Ask Barek. Come on, Eames." He gave Logan's shoulder a playful punch. "I'll call you later."

"Yeah. Ask Barek what?"

"Ask her how you got so damn plastered. Later, Mike."

----------------------------------

Eames parked the car by the curb in front of a large house with a big yard on Long Island. Goren got out and let King out of the back seat as Eames joined them on the sidewalk. Young voices yelling "King!" came across the lawn from the house as the front door banged open and three boys leapt from the porch. King disappeared in a tangle of boys. Solomon and his oldest son, Matt, stepped onto the porch as Goren and Eames reached the steps. Barry hugged his old partner. "What happened to you?" he asked, nodding at the sling.

"Gunshot wound."

The three cops sat down on the porch, watching the boys play with King. Matt stood off a little way, also watching his brothers. Solomon smiled at the scene. "King doesn't look any worse for the wear."

"Sorry about getting him shot."

"Matt, get some coffee for us, please."

"Sure, Dad."

Once he was in the house, Solomon turned back to them. "Tell me how it happened before you apologize. Did you get the bastard who killed my baby?"

"Yeah, we got him."

"I knew you would, if anyone could."

"I can't say we'd have gotten him without King."

Eames leaned forward. "I wouldn't have a partner any more if it wasn't for King."

Solomon looked confused. "Why do you say that?"

Eames shot a glance at her partner. "I'm not surprised he didn't tell you. He and another detective went with King after the perp. Bobby put himself in the line of fire so Stabler could get around to take the perp into custody. King got between Bobby and a bullet that would have killed him."

Solomon looked at the two partners, then at his dog, playing on the lawn with the boys. "That dog gets steak for dinner."

Goren softly chuckled. "Don't worry. Eames has spent a lot of time spoiling him."

Matt came onto the porch with three mugs and a coffee carafe, which he set on the table. He looked at Goren and Eames. "Did you guys get him?"

Eames nodded. "Yes, we did, Matt."

His face was very serious. "What's going to happen to him?"

"He's going to jail for the rest of his life."

"How fair is that? We have to spend the rest of our lives without Lydia and he gets three squares a day and cable TV? I promised I'd teach her to ride her new bike without training wheels, and how to play soccer and basketball. I liked having a little sister." Tears spilled over and ran down his face as he spoke. "The world just isn't the same without her." He glared at Goren. "You have known her all her life, and you didn't even bother showing up when we buried her. She always loved seeing you. We all did. We looked up to you."

Goren looked away, not trusting himself to speak, not because he was mad at the boy, but because he felt he was right. Eames, however, knew that he wasn't. "He couldn't go, Matt. He was in the hospital. He had surgery the night before and there was no way he could have made it, or we both would have been there."

Matt studied him. "What kind of surgery?"

When Goren didn't answer, Eames did. "He got shot going after the man who killed your sister."

Finally, Goren looked up at the teenager. Eames and Solomon both knew him well enough to be disturbed by the look on his face. "You have to know I do care about you and your family. I really am sorry, Matt."

Matt looked down at the ground. "I...I didn't know. I'm just angry and I don't know how to handle it." He looked up again. "Is he gonna be on death row?"

"No. But let me tell you something. Prisons have their own code of justice, believe it or not. Trust me, he's as good as on death row."

"Justice isn't always swift or merciful," Eames added. "But things have a way of balancing out. He will pay for what he did, one way or another."

Matt shook his head. "I'm just gonna miss Lydie every day for the rest of my life."

He headed back into the house. Solomon shook his head. "Sorry, Bobby. I should have stopped him. He's very angry, but it's not your fault."

"I am sorry we didn't get to the funeral."

Solomon took a deep breath. "I'm glad you didn't. It was really hard."

"How much longer are you going to stay out here?"

"Until we can sell the house and get another. I can't go back there."

King came bounding up onto the porch. He put his front paws on Solomon's lap and licked his face. "Hey, boy, we missed you." He examined the dog's shoulder and looked at Goren. "Remember when he jumped into the dumpster with us and cut his side open?"

"Yeah."

"That was worse than this."

"Yeah, but he was a younger dog, then."

"Where'd you take him?"

"Same place the department takes its K-9s."

"Good."

King got down and walked around to lay down between Goren and Eames. Solomon smiled. "He always liked you, Bobby."

"Yeah, but he loves Alex."

They laughed. Goren looked out across the yward, where the boys were playing ball. Matt had come out to join them. "How are they doing, Barry?"

"They'll be ok, Bobby. How are _you_ doing?"

Goren looked at Eames. "I'll be ok, too."

Solomon understood. Partners took care of each other. "You're both welcome to spend the day, if you'd like."

"No, thanks, Barry. We need to get going," Goren replied, getting to his feet.

Solomon nodded. "I hope Matt didn't upset you."

"No. I understand how he feels. But make sure he gets help if he needs it, Barry. Don't let him carry all that anger around. I don't want him becoming one of our cases."

"I'll take care of him, don't worry." He gave his old partner a hug, and then he hugged Eames. "I remember what a handful he was," he said into her ear. "You take care of him, huh?"

"I will," she replied with a smile.

Goren dropped to a knee and called King to him. He hugged the dog, burying his face in the fur on his ruff. "Be a good boy, King."

The dog wagged his tail happily and licked his face, then ran over to Eames, who also hugged him. Goren smiled. "That's a happy dog."

"I can see why," Solomon joked. "I'd be happy, too, if I had someone like her spoiling me."

Goren smiled but he didn't reply to the comment. "Take care, Barry. We'll get together sometime."

"You can bet on that. I have some stories to tell your partner that I think she'll get a kick out of."

"Don't do me any favors," Goren retorted.

"I'll look forward to that, Barry," Eames answered as she poked Goren in the ribs. Solomon laughed and turned back toward the house with King at his side.

They waved to the boys as they headed for the car. As they reached the sidewalk, a voice called out to them. Matt came trotting across the lawn. "Hey, Bobby, I'm sorry about before. I know it wasn't your fault. You caught the case after it happened. Thanks for getting the guy and for taking care of King." He gave Goren a tight hug. "I still remember what you did for Dad when you were his partner. I'll always be grateful to you." He smiled at Eames. "It was nice to meet you. Bye."

He ran back toward his brothers, catching a pass thrown at him by one of the twins. By the time they got in the car, he was ready for his partner's question. "What happened when you and Barry were partners?"

As she started the car and pulled away from the curb, he explained, "We were undercover. Some rookie blew a bust bigger than shit and the guy we were after drew a knife on Barry. I took it in the gut for him. He had a wife and four kids. I had no one. It was a no brainer. We nailed the guy, so it was worth it."

"Worth taking a knife in the gut?"

"Hey, I didn't have to watch those boys bury their dad. Yeah, it was worth it."

"You've always taken care of your partners."

"I tried to. But it wasn't ever enough to get past...well, me."

"Barry seems like he was a good partner."

"He was the best one before you came along, but he didn't want to transfer when I moved on to Major Case, so I had to find a new partner. You know all about that fiasco."

"I'm glad you went through it, though."

"You are?"

"Yes. If you'd found another partner, Deakins would never have had to put us together."

"You have a point there." He smiled. "Then I guess it was a good fiasco."

She laughed. "So I take it you and Barry got into some trouble?"

"Some."

"You want to tell me about it?"

"Not really."

She laughed. "I'll take that as a challenge, then."

He smiled and turned to look out the window. She headed back toward Manhattan, and he was quiet for awhile. "Eames?"

"What, Bobby?"

"Um, last night...I know you were drunk, and I...I'm not sure..." He trailed off, no longer sure he wanted to continue with his question.

"You're wondering if it was some drunken fling?"

"No. I know better than that."

Her voice was soft. "I know exactly what I did and I meant every touch and every kiss. Yes, I knew exactly what I was doing, and I did it because I knew you wouldn't. And I knew you would let me go on once I started."

"I, uh, I didn't have much choice." He closed his eyes. "Would you have let me walk away?"

"Did you want to?"

"No. But if I did..."

"Of course I would have let you. And I would have been pissed as hell."

"Really? Why?"

"Why? Were you there? Shit, Bobby, I don't know how you do it, but when you kiss me, my legs turn to jello. Any man who can do that to me, I am not letting go far."

"Jello?"

"Yes, Goren, jello. Ok? You turn me into a quivering mass of flavored gelatin."

He laughed. "I like the flavor," he muttered, smiling when she blushed. Reaching over, he traced a finger along her arm, watching with interest as goosebumps formed on her skin. She shook her arm. "Cut that out, unless you particularly want me to pull over."

"In broad daylight? Deakins probably wouldn't like that."

"He'd have had a heart attack about last night."

"Yeah. What are we going to tell him?"

"Unless you're suicidal, not a damn thing."

"And if he finds out?"

"Is he bugging your apartment?"

"I don't think so."

"Then he won't find out."

He shrugged. "Ok." He was quiet for another few minutes. "Um, I, uh...I really liked waking up this morning. It was...nice."

"I had coffee and a danish. I was thrilled."

"I'll have them for you every day if it makes you happy."

"You know what I figured out, Bobby?"

"What?"

"_You_ make me happy."

He smiled. "As long as I can keep doing that, then I'll be happy. I...I love you, Alex."

She glanced at him and she smiled back. There was real happiness in his eyes, and she preferred that infinitely more than the look that was usually there. He looked...young when he smiled like that. "I love you, too, and as long as I can keep you smiling like that, life is great."

He slid his hand into hers and squeezed. "Yeah, it is." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. He was still haunted by many things, but he found that when he was in her arms, he could let them go for a little while and let himself be happy. She was going to save him from his worst enemy--himself. There was no way he could thank her for that, except to love her, and in her book, that was more than enough.

_fin_.


End file.
